Using the Hunter
by Heeley
Summary: Voldemort is dead but the war still rages on. Bellatrix and pettigrew survived the final battle and Hermione knows that there is only one person who can track them down. Scabior. Let the hunt begin. Hermione x Scabior.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my Scabior X Hermione fic. Harry Potter belongs to J.k. This fic is a derivative work and contains mature content. I earn no money from this. Enjoy :)**

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Chapter One

Azkaban was everything that Hermione Granger had been told it would be. Bleak, forbidding, and soul destroying. And it was all of those things without the presence of the Dementors infecting the air that surrounded the prison. It was the kind of place that hovered over you, just out of reach, bathing you in its sinister aura, staining your soul and invading your dreams. Which was what also made it the perfect place to imprison what was left of Voldemort's Death Eater army. It was just a pity that it didn't contain all of them.

Then she wouldn't have to be here waiting for the guards to open the heavily warded door. She could be at Grimmauld Place grieving with Harry, Ron, and the rest of her friends. Not on some godforsaken rock in the middle of the North Sea, getting soaked by the never ending rain, which the wind threw at her with brutal force.

A few moments ago a wave had crested the rock she was sheltering behind and splashed her with what felt like half the bloody sea. It had been so strong that it almost knocked her off her feet. Now she was sure that the salt water had affected the charm she had cast to keep her cloak dry. In fact, she knew it had because her clothes were sticking uncomfortably to her skin and she was shivering, which meant the warming charm was gone as well. Not that she was surprised, neither of the charms had been particularly strong to begin with, but there was little she could do about it right now.

Hermione was tired. Physically, mentally and magically. Not just tired, that seemed like too weak of a word for what she felt, but more of a bone weariness that saturated her body. It made everything she did seem like such hard work. Even simple things like eating, or on really bad days, breathing. The final battle had drained her magical core as it had everyone who had taken part. It was only now starting to replenish itself. Albeit slowly. Too slowly for her liking.

The battle might have been won but the war was far from being over. Too many Death Eaters had escaped Hogwarts after Harry defeated Voldemort. In truth, they didn't worry Hermione all that much. The Order would catch up with them eventually and they would soon find themselves visiting Azkaban on an extended holiday. No. Random Death Eaters didn't keep her awake at night, with her skin bathed in sweat. But Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew did.

They were supposed to be dead. Everyone else believed that they were. Their bodies were in the Ministry vaults after all. But only Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hermione knew the truth. They also knew that with those two free in the wizarding world to spread their poison, Voldemort's vision for Wizarding Britain would always be a threat. Even if he was no longer alive to see it.

That was why Hermione was currently being buffeted by the wind and spat at by the churning sea. Her fingers and toes were numb from the cold, and she'd long since given up trying to keep them warm. Finally, the door to Azkaban swung open.

"About bloody time," Hermione muttered, stomping towards the opening and the sour faced guard who stood in the entryway.

His eyes slowly swept over Hermione. The way that a man did when they wanted to let a woman know they thought they were only good for one thing.

"I'm expected." She said, jutting out her chin and daring him to say something, anything, she almost wanted him to.

The guard grunted, perhaps seeing the glint in her eye that spoke of someone who had been pushed to the brink, and was more than ready to push back. After a few tense moments, he indicated that she should follow him.

Having no other choice, she did. Fixing her gaze on the guards stiff back as they walked through the dank hallways. Their footsteps echoing around them. Hermione had the feeling that the guard didn't want to be here any more than she did. Not that she could blame him. It wasn't exactly a happy clappy place to work after all. A quick glance around showed the inside was just as depressing as the outside. Grey roughly hewed rock walls, floor and ceiling, damp stale air and when she sniffed delicately, fish and salt and shit.

It was a little while before she noticed any other sound other than their staccato footsteps, shallow breaths and the rustling fabric of her cloak. But when she did, she wished that she hadn't.

Screaming.

Desperate panic ridden screams that floated into her ears and quickened her heart. She stumbled but managed to keep her feet, although she couldn't do anything about her gasping breaths.

They were the screams of Death Eaters. And she told herself that they deserved to scream. They deserved to suffer for what they'd done to innocent people. But the screams sounded the same as the ones that had been forced out of her friend's throats. Out of her own. Surely they shouldn't sound the same. Death Eaters were evil. They should have evil screams. Or none at all. Hermione rolled her eyes at her own ridiculous logic and quickened her steps.

"Don't you use silencing charms?" she asked the sour faced guard.

"Yeah." He said, leading her up a staircase.

Hermione frowned, "then why can I still hear them?"

The guard halted at the top of the stairs, causing Hermione to almost bump into him.

"You can hear them because the charm can only contain so many voices," his face twisted into a leer, "and the louder they scream the less likely it is to hold."

Hermione clenched her jaw angrily but nodded in understanding. She couldn't get into this now. There were more important things to worry about than the welfare of Azkaban's inmates. But she didn't like it. Not one bit.

The idiot guard sneered and spun away leaving Hermione to either stay or follow. She followed. He led her to a windowless room with a threadbare brown carpet, pointed to a desk and left. Behind the desk sat a thin bespectacled women, whose face was almost as sour as the guards. Maybe it was an Azkaban requirement or something.

Hermione stepped forward ignoring the women's pointed glare at her dripping cloak and said, "My name is Hermione Granger. Mr Simbleton is expecting me."

The woman's lips did the impossible and puckered even tighter, but she climbed to her feet without comment and disappeared behind a door to the left of her desk. Whilst she was gone Hermione took the opportunity to collect herself, taking a huge lungful of musty air, holding and then releasing it. She noted absently that her hands were shaking, as was the rest of her, but oddly she didn't feel cold. She didn't feel anything, only a delicious numbness that she embraced gratefully. It made breathing that little bit easier.

The door behind the desk swung open and the woman stepped out. "Mr Simbleton will see you now."

Hermione nodded politely and walked past her and into the office of the warden of Azkaban. Mr Simbleton suited his office perfectly. Plain and tidy. His short grey hair was neatly trimmed and matched the colour of the walls perfectly. Pale blue eyes looked out of a round face which sat atop a round body. Blah brown robes tried valiantly to disguise just how fat he was. But in the end, failed. Her eyes alighted on the large stack of parchment that was squared up and in line with the edge of the desk. Her fingers twitched with the urge to nudge it out of place. Just to see what would happen.

When she looked back up at Simbleton, he was watching her. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Hermione strode forward and took the seat opposite him. Honestly, she just wanted the whole thing over with.

"Mr Simbleton, I assume Minister Shacklebolt has brought you up to speed?" She asked forgoing any niceties.

Simbleton's lips thinned with displeasure, "he has, and I have to say that I disapprove ."

Hermione sighed. "I know it's unconventional but there really is no other way."

Simbleton frowned, "No other way? Are you quite sure?"

"Yes." She answered closing her eyes tiredly.

And she was. This was the only idea they'd come up with that had any chance of working. After all, what better way to catch a Death Eater than with a Death Eater? More specifically the Death Eater that had managed to catch her, Harry and Ron.

Scabior.

He was reputed to be the best snatcher alive, and they needed the best if they wanted to catch Bella and Pettigrew.

"Well as long as the Ministry and the Order are fully behind this," Simbleton said eyeing her closely.

Hermione nodded so she wouldn't have to lie outright to him. In truth, the only people who knew about the plan were herself, Shacklebolt and Simbleton. She hadn't even told Ron or Harry, not wanting to argue or fall out. Ron was almost as tired as she was, and poor Harry was dead on his feet. He could barely get out of bed most days and the rest of the Order were no better, still taking stock and burying the dead.

Yet, she knew that this was the only way. Bellatrix and Pettigrew were a huge threat and they needed to be found. Quickly. The Ministry was in chaos, everyone scrambling to save their own jobs at the same time as trying to push the newly appointed Shacklebolt out of his. That was why it had to be now before Shacklebolt lost his power to grant Scabior his freedom and before anyone looked too closely and thought to object. And they would. Nobody wanted any Death Eater released from Azkaban, especially one who had turned the golden trio over to Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione shifted forward in her seat. "I'd like to speak to him alone before we complete the paperwork."

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," Simbleton said, folding his chubby hands atop the desk.

Hermione scoffed, "you're right, but I'm going to do it anyway."

He stared intently at her face, gauging whether or not he could change her mind. Whatever expression her face wore made him shake his head sadly.

"Very well Miss Granger, I'll take you to him," Simbleton said using the desk to lever himself to his feet.

"Don't you need to do the paperwork?" Hermione asked jutting her chin at the stack of parchment on his desk.

Simbleton glanced at the stack. "Oh, that's not the paperwork, Minister Shacklebolt has already taken care of that, all we need to do is sign." He flicked his hand at the parchment pile in a careless gesture, "those are requests from witches and wizards seeking employment."

"Well, I suppose you'll need them now, what with the influx of prisoners. I didn't see anyone other than the guard who let me in." She added wondering how understaffed they were.

Simbleton gave her an odd look. "Azkaban is at its full capacity of guards. We don't need anymore."

Hermione tilted her head in confusion, "but I didn't see any."

"That's because they were taking care of the prisoners."

Ice trickled down her spine and she fought the urge to vomit. Taking care of someone usually didn't involve screaming. Especially _those_ kinds of screams. The inmates weren't screaming from nightmares or memories. They were being tortured. Her eyes flicked back to the pile of employment enquiries.

"A lot of people want revenge Miss Granger," Simbleton said quietly, seeing her look.

She closed her eyes as if that could somehow make it all go away. It didn't work. It never worked. They were Death Eaters, she reminded herself, they had done awful things to innocent people. And they would have continued to do awful things if they hadn't been caught. She told herself that. Again and again.

But torture was wrong no matter who was on the end of it. Why couldn't they see that it was wrong?

"Miss Granger?"

She snapped her eyes open and glared at Simbleton. "Allowing that to happen makes you no better than Voldemort himself." She hissed furiously.

"What would you have me do? My hands are tied in so many knots that I'm surprised I'm not mistaken for a piece of rope!" He bellowed back at her, chin wobbling in his fury.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this!" She yelled, letting all of her frustration out and into that one sentence.

Then she promptly burst into tears. Simbleton sighed and ambled over, he hovered for a moment before awkwardly patting her shoulder. Hermione ignored him trying desperately to suck back her tears, horrified that she'd lost control in front of him. She never lost control.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, struggling to come up with an explanation that wouldn't let him know how close to the edge she was. She settled on, "I'm just so tired."

"Of course, of course. We all are." He mumbled with a surprising amount of sympathy. "Take a moment."

Hermione nodded but continued to stare at her clenched fists. They were red and raw from the wind. It took three minutes for her to sink back into the blissful numbness of earlier, and when she did she immediately pulled away from Simbleton and his clumsy back patting.

"I apologise, Sir, that shouldn't have happened." She said softly.

Simbleton cleared his throat, "yes well, shall we pretend it didn't?"

Hermione nodded her head gratefully. "Thank you."

Simbleton shifted uneasily. "I don't encourage what the guards do here Miss Granger, but I do try and manage it." He whispered with a hint of shame.

"I understand." She answered. And she did. She really did. The war had made monsters of them all. At least he knew what they were doing was wrong. So many others didn't. Or did, but didn't care.

Hermione decided right then and there that she liked Simbleton. He was in a crap situation and he was doing his best not to let it get any crapper. And he hadn't given into hate and that was something she could respect. Of course, she'd speak to Kingsley about the torture that was going on. There was no way she could just pretend it wasn't happening. Not after hearing those screams.

"I'm ready to see Scabior now."

Simbleton grimaced, "then let's not keep him waiting." He answered wryly.

Hermione gave him a genuine but small smile. She could well imagine what kind of prisoner the Snatcher would make. The insolent, mouthy man could very quickly get on anybody's last nerve.

When Simbleton waddled out of the door, Hermione followed closely behind. His secretary was there, offering them both a pinched look. They didn't go back down the stairs but turned right and down a narrow corridor. She counted five doors on either side and a further four when they turned a corner. Finally, they arrived at a heavy looking steel door.

Hermione took a deep breath, hoping to still her fluttering stomach. It took a second for it to register that she was nervous and she blinked, bemused with herself. In front of her, Simbleton raised his hand and spread his fingers across the door's smooth surface. He murmured a word and the ward locking the door dropped. He pushed gently and swung it open.

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 **I love to hear your thoughts so please don't be afraid to review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Hermione stepped past him and into the room, eyes on the ground, one step, two, three, and then turned back around to face the Azkaban warden.

"Ten minutes," she said softly.

When he reluctantly bobbed his head in agreement she swung the door closed.

A tense silence surrounded them. Almost thick enough for her to scoop into her hand and mould into shape. Hermione had purposely kept her gaze averted when she'd entered the room. It was a test of sorts. One that would solidify in her mind that what she was doing was the right thing.

And then she felt it.

A feather light touch that brushed softly on the edge of her awareness. It was the same feeling that had dogged her during the hunt for the Horcruxes. A feeling of being watched. Tracked. Hunted. As soon as she felt it her eyes closed in relief. He could do it. He could lead them to Bellatrix and Pettigrew. Now all she had to do was convince him.

Slowly Hermione twisted away from the door. She held her breath as her skin continued to prickle. The first thing she saw was the corner of a battered wooden table, and then the dirty white and faded black of an Azkaban inmate uniform. Scabior's uniform. Her gaze trailed up his arm and along his shoulder, past the untidy nest of hair and into a pair of ink blue eyes, framed by long dark lashes.

"Dove." Scabior spoke the word like a caress and Hermione could almost feel it slide against her skin. She ignored the sensation and forced her features into indifference.

"Scabior," she said, taking the seat opposite him and eyeing the way he sprawled in his chair. Almost as if they were meeting in a pub and not in the most depressing prison known to man. Wizard or Muggle. She just knew he was going to be deliberately annoying by the way he was looking at her hair and smirking. As if she didn't know that her hair was a soggy knotted mess. Anyway it wasn't like his was any better.

"I have a proposition for you," she said drawing his eyes away from the top of her head.

His lips tipped up at one corner. "But we 'ardly know each other kitten."

Hermione scowled. "Nor are we going to!" She snapped. So much for indifference. She pressed an icy hand to her forehead in the hopes of cooling down her temper. It didn't help.

"Minister Shacklebolt and I would like you to track down a couple of people for us." She stated as calmly as she could.

Scabior lifted his hands from his lap and placed them on the battered table, "and why would I do that?" he answered, all pretence now stripped from his voice.

Hermione's reply stuck in her throat, her carefully planned speech in tatters. Almost as tattered as the skin of his wrists where the shackles had ripped and torn the surprisingly soft looking skin.

"Somethin' wrong lovely girl?"

"What?" Her eyes snapped up to meet his before drifting down to his damaged wrists again.

"I asked yer if there was somethin' wrong."

She could hear the amusement shading his voice and it was enough to snap her attention back to his face. "No, of course not." She thought back to his original question, "as to why you would track them, how about the chance of freedom?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Oh dove, yer the only one who can make my 'eart skip a beat."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his over the top dramatics. "It's simple really, you find the two were looking for and you earn a pardon."

Scabior shifted forward bringing with him the smell of unwashed body, "a full pardon?"

Hermione shuffled further back in her chair, away from the smell. "Conditional," she answered ignoring the way his eyes kept flicking to her lips.

"What kind of conditions Angel?"

Hermione's temper snapped. "Can't you just pick one?" She absolutely detested pet names.

"Whatever do yer mean Cupcake?" He murmured knowing exactly what she was talking about.

Clenching her hands into fists she glared at him. "Condition one; you will make an unbreakable vow, on your wand, that you will never again use any unforgivable curses. Condition two; you will wear a tracking device for the remainder of your life. Condition three; your magic will be modified so that you can never hurt any one again. Condition four; your pardon will only be granted if and when the two are caught, otherwise you will be immediately returned to Azkaban where you will live out the remainder of your life." She pulled in a sharp breath. "Do you agree?"

Scabior watched her silently. A calculating glint darkening the ink blue eyes even further. His face was curiously still, clearly his was thinking about his options very carefully. "I'll wear the trackin' device only until the two yer want 'unted are caught."

Hermione dithered for a moment before reluctantly nodding her head in agreement. She'd simply have to come up with another way for the ministry to track him.

Scabior smiled coolly. "Then yer 'ave yourself a tracker, Pretty."

Relief flooded Hermione. They were one step closer to Bella and Wormtail. She only hoped that Scabior would be able to find them quickly. Her eyes flicked back to him, he was watching her, an arrogant smile curling his lips. Merlin, he was annoying. She didn't even want to think about what would happen when Ron and Harry saw him. They would be beyond furious. Still there really was no other way. It had to be Scabior.

She was interrupted from further thought by Simbleton entering the room. "Is everything set?" He asked Hermione, ignoring Scabior all together.

"Yes. I just need to modify one of the conditions before we sign though," she said reaching for the parchment that Simbleton was holding in his thick hand. It took a few seconds to find the paragraph, reach for a quill and change condition two. She muttered a charm to link what she'd amended to the rest of the contract before handing it to Scabior to read.

They waited in silence as he read, Hermione surprised that he was studying it so intently. She had the feeling that he was searching for loopholes. Well good luck to him, because she'd made sure that there weren't any.

Finally he lifted his head, nodded and reached awkwardly for the quill. The chains rattled and tugged at his skin as he stretched his fingers towards her. She quickly passed him the quill, their fingers brushing, rough skin against soft. Her hand moved away from him as if burned. The scratch of the quill against the parchment was very loud in the quiet room. It was a sound that Hermione would usually find comforting. Not today though. There was no comfort to be found today. Once he'd scrawled his signature at the bottom of the contract, he dropped the quill on top and pushed it across the table to Hermione.

"Your turn, Dove."

Hermione quickly signed her name below Scabior's and passed it Simbleton to sign as witness to the whole nightmare. As soon as he'd finished, the contract disappeared with a soft pop, headed for the Ministry records office. Well, it was done. Whatever the Order said and whoever kicked up a fuss at the Ministry, they wouldn't be able to undo the contract. Scabior was free and he would remain so for as long as he hunted Bella and Pettigrew.

"Yer got my clothes Simpleton?" Scabior asked snidely, "and the key to my bracelets would be nice, if it's no trouble."

Simbleton gave the long suffering sigh of someone who'd heard his name mangled a thousand times before and indicated that Scabior should follow him. Hermione watched from beneath her lashes as the Snatcher climbed to his feet and skirted the table. He shuffled past her, closer than needed and followed Simbleton out of the room. As soon as they'd gone Hermione slumped forward in her seat and let her forehead rest against the tabletop. Even the slightly waxy feel of it couldn't make her raise it back up again.

She noted absently that she was shaking and wondered whether it was worth the effort to cast a drying and warming charm but quickly decided that no, it was not. They would need to go back outside and away from Azkaban's wards before they could leave. So she was bound to get wet again and using her magic for something so trivial would be stupid.

Merlin knew how long it would take before she was back to full strength. Kingsley and the Weasley's reckoned weeks but Hermione had an awful feeling it would take much longer than that. But at least she wasn't as bad as Harry. Killing Voldemort had almost drained him dry. And he still hadn't walked more than a few steps more than four weeks later, for him spell casting looked months away.

Hermione was still scrunched over the table when Scabior and Simbleton returned. She sighed, lifted herself up and twisted to face them. She froze when she saw Scabior in his snatcher clothes. Chequered pants, deep green velvet waistcoat, knee length black leather coat. But it was the red armband circling his bicep declaring his profession that made her heart stutter in her chest.

It took her right back to the woods. Hexes flying, running so fast it left her dizzy, panic a solid presence that squeezed her heart and filled her throat. And then him, Scabior, in front of her, pressing close. Touching her hair and nuzzling her neck, caging her in and drinking in her fear. Scenting her.

"Miss Granger?" Simbleton asked, "are you alright?"

Hermione blinked her way free of her memories. "Yes, yes I'm fine." She smiled tightly at him, shifting her gaze away from Scabior and to the doorway. Stepping forward was harder work than it should have been but she just about managed it. When she was next to Simbleton she held out her hand. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. I wish it had been under better circumstances."

Simbleton took her hand and shook it rather limply. "And you Miss Granger. Please take care."

She nodded her head and walked out of the door towards the sour faced guard of earlier. Dimly she was aware of Scabior behind her, too close, but not enough so that she could object without looking like a paranoid weak minded fool. She knew he was doing it on purpose. Deliberately trying to intimidate her. Well it wasn't going to work.

She ignored him as the guard led them out, even though she could practically feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. Once again they were serenaded by the screams. Hermione took no notice, instead keeping her gaze fixed determinedly on the back of the guards head. Every now and then he would glance over his shoulder and give Scabior a murderous look. She didn't know what look Scabior returned, but whatever it was seemed to make the guard more furious with every step he took.

When they reached the entrance, the guard halted, sneering at them as he activated the charm that would allow the door to swing open. As soon as it did, Hermione gestured for Scabior to step out ahead of her. The last thing she needed was for a fight to break out between him and the guard.

She followed the Snatcher out and into a wind that pressed against her, once again soaking her with ice cold water. She sighed, bent forward and made her way wearily over to the apparation point. They wouldn't actually be apparating. In her weakened state she would likely splinch every limb from their bodies, so they'd be using a Portkey instead. When she spun around she almost collided with Scabior. That's how close he was standing. She immediately stepped back and glared. He merely raised his eyebrows and grinned.

"You'll be doing the 'oners then will yer, Pet?" He said offering her his leather clad arm.

Her eyes darted nervously to the left at his question. She didn't want him to know how weak they were magically. And Scabior wasn't the best snatcher for nothing, he noticed things, Hermione had seen that skill first hand. And if he knew she was magically low he'd find a way to use it against her.

"Actually we'll be using a Portkey," she said.

Scabior's arm dropped down to his side. "An why would that be, Love?" He said eyeing her with intense scrutiny.

Hermione grit her teeth, "because I said so," she answered reaching into her soaking robes to retrieve the Portkey that Kingsley had given her.

Scabior chuckled and stepped into her again. She scowled, about to tell him to back off when she realized that he was blocking the worst of the wind and sea spray from hitting her. Folding her lips she continued to search for the Portkey. Finally, her numb fingers closed around the small silver thimble that would transport them. She pulled it free, placed it on the tip of her index finger and held it towards Scabior. His eyes locked onto hers as he reached forward and touched his own slightly grimy finger to the thimble. Her gut twisted but she refused to let him see how uncomfortable he was making her. He was cocky enough as it was. Who knew what he'd do if he thought he had the upper hand.

"Portus!" She snapped out, then held her breath when she felt the internal tug of the Portkey activating.

The world spun dizzyingly fast and they were sucked away from Azkaban, only to be spat out onto a field behind the Burrow. Hermione stumbled but managed to keep her feet. Of course Scabior kept his balance effortlessly.

Kingsley was already waiting for them when they arrived. Hermione smiled and walked quickly towards him, taking in his warm smile and comforting presence.

"Miss Granger," he pulled her forward and into a friendly hug. "It went as planned?"

"It did," she said, smiling gratefully when he pulled out his wand and set a drying charm over her. She twisted around to face Scabior and beckoned him over. He had a slight sneer on his face but looked unconcerned as he strolled towards them with and easy confidence that Hermione envied. Once he reached them he halted, again too close to her, and stared at Kingsley.

"I don't need to tell you that if you break any of the restrictions placed on you the consequences will be extremely severe." Kingsley's voice was devoid of emotion as he spoke.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Scabior rolled his eyes insolently as he spoke.

Kingsley gave him a disgusted look. "See that you don't." He switched his attention back to Hermione, "Miss Granger?"

She nodded and made her slow way towards the Burrow. Nobody had lived there since the Death Eaters had attacked Bill and Fleur's wedding. The remaining Weasley's had now taken up residence at Grimmauld Place. And so far they hadn't made any plans to return. The house held too many memories. The grief of losing Fred had almost destroyed the family and right now they couldn't seem to see beyond it. Hermione ached for them but didn't know what to say or do that would help.

She didn't look at the Burrow as they approached. It hurt too much seeing how the once warm and vibrant home had become a hollow broken shell. Yet this was the only place that she could think of to finish the deal without the others interfering. They needed Scabior. She would just have to convince Harry and the others of that fact.

Hermione stuffed all of her doubts into a do not open box and pushed it firmly to the back of her brain. She couldn't back out now. She wouldn't. The Burrow's door was broken and opened easily when she gave it a nudge. The living room was a mess, shattered furniture, broken glass, cushions and rugs wearing charred marks where the Death Eaters had tried to set the place on fire. Not one of them had been able to make the flames take hold. Molly's protection charms were just too strong. It made her smile, but it felt stiff and wrong on her face so she let it fade away.

Hermione turned back to Kingsley and Scabior. They were both watching her, each with a different expression on their face. Kingsley wore a sad, concerned look, letting her know that he knew exactly what she was feeling and that he was feeling it as well. Scabior had calculation written all over his sharp features, probably trying to work out how he could use this against her in the future. She would have to watch him, she had the awful feeling that he would turn on her the first chance he got.

"Can we just do this?" she asked tiredly.

Kingsley nodded his agreement and then reached into his robe to retrieve Scabior's wand. The snatcher eyed it greedily having to fist his hands to stop himself from reaching out and tearing it from Kingsley's grip.

Kingsley seemed to know this because he held the wand tauntingly close but kept it just out of Scabior's reach.

"Ah ah, first the spell to modify your magic." Kingsley handed the wand to Hermione to hold and indicated that she should back away. When she had, Kingsley pulled out his own wand before dipping again into his robes to pull out a small black dagger. It glinted dully. Seeming to suck up all the light.

When he saw it, Scabior glanced at Hermione who was very carefully avoiding his gaze.

"Spell you say?" Scabior asked Kingsley. "Stinks of a curse to me," he spat out.

"As you say," Kingsley evenly replied.

Hermione refused to look at either of them. Scabior was right. It was a curse. Quite a dark one at that. And she would know, because she was the one who'd found it. Originally she had planned on casting it herself but Kingsley had refused, telling her that either he did it or the deal was off. With little choice she'd agreed.

"Shall we continue? Or would you prefer to return to Azkaban?" Kingsley said making Hermione wince. This was moving from a simple deal to blackmail very rapidly.

Scabior tilted his head mockingly, "by all means, cast your curse."

The ministers lips tightened in annoyance but he remained silent. Instead he stepped forward until he stood facing Scabior, a couple of feet separating them. He muttered an incantation under his breath and lifted the black dagger until it lay against the palm of his hand. Inhaling he glanced at Hermione before pressing the blade into his skin and pulling sharply down. Blood welled instantly and he had to quickly turn his palm skywards to stop any of it from dripping onto the ground. Almost in the same instant he reached towards Scabior. "You're palm," Kingsley snapped.

Hermione watched beneath her lashes as the snatcher nonchalantly offered his palm to Kingsley. He didn't even flinch as Kingsley slashed the soft flesh of his hand with the cursed blade, but his lips did thin slightly when Kingsley pressed their bleeding palms together and placed the tip of his wand over their clasped hands.

He began to chant in Latin, slowly binding Scabior's magic to his own. His wand spat out a rope of red light, which twisted and circled their hands. Once the binding was complete, Kingsley lowered his head, concentrating on putting restrictions on the kind of magic Scabior would be able to use.

Hermione watched, the hair rising on the back of her neck as the red rope formed several knots that sank into the skin on the back of Scabior's hand. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight, or the slick blood that seeped from between their sandwiched flesh.

It was horrifying for her to see dark magic cast with so little fuss. So little effort. It shouldn't have been that easy. She shook her head and tore her gaze away from the two men, instead focusing on a broken teacup. She wanted to reach down, take out her wand and repair it, place it on the shelf in the kitchen where Molly had kept them but managed to resist.

Sudden guilt filled her. They shouldn't have preformed the curse here. The Weasley's would be furious if they knew dark magic was being cast in their home by people they considered friends. She flicked her attention back to Kingsley and Scabior just in time to see Kingsley finish the curse. The red rope faded into nothing as Kingsley pulled his wand away and dropped Scabior's hand.

The minister turned to Hermione. "It's done."

She nodded at him sadly and stepped towards him, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

The corner of his mouth kicked up in an almost smile. "It was necessary," was all he said as he past her to look out of the window. Guessing he needed a moment to himself Hermione turned away and stepped reluctantly towards Scabior.

"Are you okay?" She asked gesturing to his palm.

"'ad no idea yer cared Angel," he said tilting his palm.

She snorted, "I don't."

He smirked but didn't reply. Not that Hermione wanted him to, the sound of his voice was rapidly beginning to irritate her. As was the blood that still pooled in his palm. He was holding it in a way that made sure she could see it clearly, like he wanted to remind her that dark magic had been used on him. As if she could ever forget.

Unable to stop herself she flicked her wand and cast a scourgify on him, then she reached for his hand intending to heal the cut. Only there wasn't a cut to heal. But there was a scar. A deep pink slash that travelled diagonally from the base of his index finger to the outside of his wrist.

 _Stupid Hermione. It was a cursed blade._ Of course it would scar. Thanks to Bellatrix she knew all about the god awful scars cursed blades left behind. They burned as they cut, almost seeming to sink below the skin, through muscle and into bone. She remembered it distinctly, coupled with the mad cackle that had spewed from Bella's mouth.

"Sickle for yer thoughts Dove?" A finger brushed along her jaw, bringing her back from her memories.

Hermione jumped, flicking him a panicked look and then back away from his knowing stare. It infuriated her. He infuriated her. How dare he stand there looking so smug. So unaffected by what had happened. By what he'd done. Not just to her, but to countless others as well. All on the say so of an insane wizard. For that was definitely what Voldemort was. Insane.

She allowed a sneer to curl her lips. "Shall we preform the wand oath now?" She asked coldly, feeling a slither of satisfaction when his eyes darkened with anger. When she looked at Kingsley he was eyeing them curiously.

"You're ready Miss Granger?" he asked inclining his head.

Hermione tossed Scabior his wand, "more than."

The snatcher narrowed his eyes but said nothing. But he did track her movements as she stepped closer to him. Once there she held out her wand towards him, parallel to the ground. When he didn't immediately follow suite she raised her eyebrow mockingly.

"Is there a problem?" She asked him with false sweetness.

"Never, Kitten," he returned with the same saccharine edge before mirroring her own wand position. With her free hand she grasped his wand and waited for him to do the same with hers. She tried not to notice his new scar or the chaffing on his wrist.

"Okay, make the oath." She ordered fixing her gaze on the base of Scabior's neck. She could just about make out the rhythmic beat of his pulse.

Scabior cleared his throat, "I, Scabior 'earby promise on my wand and on my life that I will never again use one of the three unforgivable curses..." he fixed Hermione with a challenging gaze, "...unless 'ermione Granger gives me permission to do so."

Hermione's eyes fluttered up to his. "That will never happen." Wondering how anyone could be so cocky.

He merely shrugged. She looked at Kingsley but he simply inclined his head, leaving the decision as to whether to accept or not up to her. Hermione frowned. There was no way that she'd ever give him permission to use them, so agreeing to that part of the vow shouldn't be an issue, now or in the future. She glanced at Scabior, gauging if she could get him to re-word the vow, but his stony features said clearly that, no, he would not.

Reluctantly she accepted the oath, forcing herself still when the vow wrapped around her arm and sank beneath her skin, leaving behind the sensation of pins and needles.

"Well that's it then. It's done," she muttered tiredly.

"Not quite love," Scabior said drawing her attention back to him, "Yer still haven't told me who yer want me to snatch."

Hermione grimaced, unsure of what his reaction was going to be, but at least he couldn't throw any dangerous hexes at her any more. She stepped away from him. Just in case.

"Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and added me to their various lists. I'm truly grateful and dance after every one!**

* * *

Chapter Three

It was almost midnight by the time Hermione had managed to escape Scabior's increasingly nasty tirade. Honestly, like she didn't already know what a bitch this hunt was going to be. She didn't need the Snatcher listing every single thing that could go wrong. When she'd left the Burrow, Scabior had been trying to get out of the deal. Issuing threats, and when they didn't work, insults. She'd left Kingsley to deal with his hissy fit. She'd had more than enough for one day. And tomorrow wouldn't be any easier. They'd have to tell the Order that Bella and Peter had survived. Try and convince them that using Scabior to hunt them was their only option, and all without them finding out that the deal had already been done. And Scabior was already free.

Merlin, it made her head ache just thinking about it. For the first time in weeks she was actually glad to see Grimmauld Place.

There was no one about when she entered the musty smelling safe house. Not that she expected there to be. Harry was bed bound, Ginny might as well be because she was constantly at his side. Ron and the rest of the Weasley's would be sleeping and McGonagall would be back at Hogwarts overseeing the rebuilding. And poor Remus would be sitting beside Tonks' grave. As he'd done it every night since her death.

Hermione sighed into the darkness and made her way carefully up the stairs. Treading lightly so as not to wake the portrait of Walburga Black. The bigoted witch screeching abuse at her was the last thing she wanted to hear right now. Although it would top off a spectacularly crap day. In the end she made it past without a hitch, and headed up to the next floor. Tip toeing all the way.

It was when she was passing George's door that she stopped. He was weeping. A quiet broken sound that wrapped her heart in sadness. For the briefest of seconds she considered ignoring him. Leaving him for someone else to deal with. But couldn't bring herself to make her feet move. Nobody should have to cry alone.

She quietly entered the room, standing for a moment on the threshold to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. The small window above the bed allowed a tiny sliver of moonlight to enter the room. Gilding the furniture and sheets. George was on his side, back facing her, sobbing into a scrunched up pillow.

Biting her lip to prevent her own tears from escaping, Hermione closed the door and crept towards the bed. Dodging the discarded clothes piled on the floor like rubbish. As soon as her knees hit the mattress she slid her cloak off and lowered herself onto the bed next to him. When her fingers touched his waist, he stilled, body turning to stone beneath her hand.

She curled herself around his lanky frame as best she could, frowning when she inhaled the scent of fire whisky. Faint but unmistakable. It wasn't the first time she'd smelt it on him. Was he using it to cope with his grief? She could hardly blame him. The death of Fred had almost undone him. He hadn't left his room for the first two weeks but he'd been doing better lately. They'd all thought he was coming back to them. Obviously he was not. She didn't even want to think about what he'd do when he found out Bellatrix had survived. Even though the crazy bitch hadn't killed Fred herself, she had distracted him whilst another Death Eater had fired the killing curse.

She pressed her forehead against the back of his head. "It's okay George, you don't have to pretend with me," she whispered into the damp skin of his neck.

George shuddered, desperately grabbing her arm before bursting into a fresh round of sobs. Hermione whispered nonsense words to him whilst he cried, her heart breaking every time he whimpered Fred's name. It was a very long time before he finally began to quieten down. Less shuddering, more of a stuttering kind of rock.

"I miss him Granger," he whispered.

"I do too," she answered, reaching down to pull a blanket over them. "But Fred isn't gone George. He can never be gone whilst we still remember him here." She pressed her palm to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beat against her skin.

That's how they both fell asleep, George on his side, Hermione pressed to his back, hand splayed across his chest.

She woke the next morning before George and spent a few minutes laying there, staring at the back of his head. How the hell was it possible for anyone to have hair that bright? It was like a newly minted penny had been melted on top of his head. Hermione tilted her neck until the soft strands tickled her nose and chin. At one time in her life she would have given almost anything for silky, shiny hair like that.

Well, not anything. She wouldn't give up her intelligence for example, but maybe she would have give up a couple of her favourite books. She could always have bought them back again at a later date anyway. Sighing, she carefully removed herself from George and the bed. He didn't even stir when she got her feet tangled in her cloak and stumbled into the bedside table, knocking a glass of water onto the ground.

Cursing under her breath she reached down for the now empty glass and placed it back on the table, then retrieved her crumpled cloak and folded it neatly over her arm. She gave George a quick look, this time seeing more by the hazy sunlight, and noted his gaunt face and dark circles before quietly leaving the room.

The first thing she did was take a shower, a long hot shower that trickled more than sprayed. The second was to tame her hair into a messy bun and dress in faded jeans, pale yellow shirt and grey jumper. Third on her list was to sit on her bed and try not to think about what a nightmare the Order meeting was going to be.

Maybe she could skip it. Take Scabior and start the hunt, let Kingsley deal with the fallout. Her head was shaking even as she thought it. She was a Gryffindor and Gryffindor's were not cowards. She could do this. She just didn't want to.

Deciding that if she sat there any longer fretting she'd make herself sick, Hermione got up and went downstairs and into the kitchen. Molly was there, steadily filling the table with breakfast. Pancakes, toast, eggs, bacon, sausage and porridge covered the surface.

"Hermione dear, come sit, eat," Molly said wiping her hands on a tea towel.

"This looks great Mrs Weasley," she said collecting a plate and taking a couple of pieces of toast. Sitting down she smeared strawberry jam on top and poured herself some apple juice. She ate quietly, watching Molly bustle about the kitchen from the corner of her eye. The poor woman was barely hanging on, she was so tightly strung that the slightest tap would make her snap.

"Are you okay Mrs Weasley?" Hermione asked softly as Molly began making tea and coffee.

Molly blinked at her and reached forward to touch calloused fingertips to her cheek. "I will be dear."

Hermione smiled sadly and nodded her head. Now probably wasn't the best time to mention that she thought George was using alcohol as a crutch. Molly would take it as a personal criticism and it would somehow all turn out to be Hermione's fault.

"Now then, would you take a plate up to Ginny for me? I can barely get the poor girl to leave Harry's side," Molly said, filling a plate with food.

Hermione finished her toast and juice whilst Molly continued to make up a tray for Ginny. It was starting to resemble the leaning tower of Pisa. As soon as it looked like it was about to topple Hermione grabbed the tray before Molly could think twice and pile on some more. When the Weasley matriarch turned her back to pick up some more toast, probably to shore up the sides so she could add more eggs on top, Hermione backed out of the room, almost tripping over Kreacther in her haste.

"Filthy, dirty Mudblood, tainting the Mistresses house." He tugged on a tattered ear and gave Hermione a disgusted glare.

"Oh, hush," Hermione muttered, turning her back on the bigoted elf and heading upstairs. She had to go really slowly because the food wobbled with every step she took.

She didn't even have to search for Ginny because she knew the youngest Weasley would be in Harry's room. When she got to door, she used her foot to gently tap the heavy wood. A couple of seconds later the door swung open and Ginny's pale face came into view.

"Hey Ginny. Your Mum sent me." Hermione lifted the loaded tray slightly in explanation.

Seeing the mountain of food Ginny rolled her eyes and took the tray from Hermione. "Come in."

Hermione entered the room, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the various healing potions Harry was being given. She followed Ginny to the centre of the room and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed.

Harry was asleep, as he often was these days. He looked so different sleeping and without his glasses. Less tense, more relaxed. She reached forward to take his hand. Their skin was almost the same colour. Too pale to be healthy. Fine blue veins stood out starkly from the almost white flesh. She let her finger trace them as she watched his eyes twitch back and forth beneath his lids. Dreaming. She hoped he was having a good one.

"How is he?" She asked Ginny, not able to move her gaze from his still face.

Ginny shifted, placing the tray beside Harry and taking a seat opposite her. "He's good. Still tired and he's as weak as a kitten, but I think he's getting a little stronger every day.

Hermione nodded. "And are you okay?" She asked switching her gaze to Ginny.

The pretty redhead smiled bitterly. "I'm alive."

"Yes. Alive," Hermione said wondering if she would be when she started the hunt for Bellatrix. She watched Ginny watch Harry. Seeing the love the young Weasley had for Harry made Hermione feel an odd kind of longing. What would it be like to have someone look at you like that? Would it ever happen to her?

She sighed. It didn't matter anyway. Finding Bella and Peter was what mattered. And if the hunt was ever going to happen, then she would need people on her side.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked watching as she scooped some eggs into her mouth.

"Mmm?"

"You know none of this will be over until all of the Death Eaters have been caught."

Ginny dropped her fork and gave Hermione a half hearted glare. "I know that!" She brushed a hand along Harry's forehead. "He isn't strong enough to finish this Hermione."

"I'm not asking him to." Her whiskey brown eyes settled on her best friend. "He's done more than enough, but we can't all sit around and wait for the Death Eaters to re-group and plan."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Hermione swallowed, "we hunt them down."

Ginny looked at her like she'd just grown another head. "Hermione..."

"I'm serious Ginny, we can't wait for them to strike first."

"So we hunt them?"

Hermione avoided Ginny's eyes. "Yes."

"Why aren't you looking at me?" Ginny snapped, "How are we going to hunt them Hermione."

The bushy haired witch flicked her gaze back at Ginny. "We could use a Snatcher."

Ginny's eyebrows almost reached her hairline, "you can't be serious."

Hermione snorted, "has there ever been a time when I wasn't?"

Ginny smiled wryly, "nope, but this is crazy. The Order will never agree."

"Kingsley agrees."

"So you plan to have him convince the others?"

Hermione shrugged. "Sort of."

"Death Eaters can't be trusted, Mione," Ginny said shaking her head and causing her hair to cascade around her shoulders.

"I know that, but maybe one can be magically shackled and forced to take an unbreakable vow."

Ginny tilted her head and studied her intently. So intently that Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to look anywhere but at the gleaming strands of Ginny's hair. It was a tiny bit darker than George's but lighter than Ron's. Still it was the only bright spot in the room.

"Merlin!" Ginny jumped to her feet and circled the bed until she stood over Hermione. "You already did it! Are you mad?" She reached down to grab Hermione's arm, then pulled her to her feet. "Who!?" She hissed venomously.

Hermione yanked her arm free. How on earth did someone so tiny have so much strength? It must be all that Quidditch. "Yes Ginny, it's already done." She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath and when she returned her gaze to Ginny she was ready. "We chose Scabior." She took a step back as she spoke.

"Scabior?" Ginny hissed furiously. "The Scabior that captured you, Harry and Ron and took you to Malfoy Manor to be tortured? That Scabior?!"

"Yes."

"Hermione..."

"Bellatrix is alive." Hermione interrupted before the red head could explode. Ginny seemed to deflate before her eyes.

"That's impossible, she died. Everyone said she did! Her body is in the Ministry's vaults!"

"No. She escaped, with Pettigrew."

"Pettigrew?"

"He isn't dead either." Hermione reached for Ginny's hand, "we have to find them, even if it means using Scabior to do it."

Ginny inhaled and turned her gaze to Harry. Her features softened as she stared at him. A long few silent minutes passed and then she said, "you're right. This needs to be over."

"Thanks Ginny." Hermione said wrapping the youngest Weasley in a fierce embrace. "Now eat your breakfast."

Ginny snorted and pushed Hermione away and returned to her chair beside Harry. "You need me to support you during the meeting don't you?"

"God, yeah." Hermione answered nodding her head frantically.

Ginny laughed, "okay."

They spent the rest of the morning quietly chatting, Hermione explaining how Bella and Peter had survived, then switching topics to nothing in particular. Not the past. Not Hogwarts and definitely not the war.

* * *

 **Full explanation for Bella and Peter surviving in the next Chapter. As always leave me your thoughts :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

By the time afternoon rolled by Hermione was a nervous wreck. Her heart was thudding and her stomach was squirming unpleasantly. Downstairs she could hear the Order members arriving. Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer she followed the sound of voices into the dining room. George, Bill, Fleur, Arthur, Molly, Remus and Ron were scattered about the room. Ginny past her as she hovered in the doorway, making her way to a clearly devastated Remus Lupin. Tonks death had affected him badly. Most days the wolf could barely lift his head from his chest.

George was sitting in the corner on his own, staring morosely at the faded rug. She had yet to tell him that Bella was alive. Maybe she could whisper it to him now before the meeting started. She gave everyone a half-hearted wave and went to sit next to him.

"Granger," he mumbled not moving his eyes from the ground.

"Hello George," Hermione said softly brushing her hand across his knee. Maybe it would be best to tell him when Kingsley arrived.

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips but he didn't otherwise acknowledge her. Her eyes drifted up and snagged on Ron. She wondered if she should get up and speak to him, but she honestly didn't know how to be around him anymore. She still hadn't forgiven him for leaving her and Harry during the Horcrux hunt and the kiss they'd shared had just confused her. She was pulled from her thoughts by the arrival Kingsley. As planned Scabior wasn't with him. They needed the Order to think that bringing him on the hunt had been there decision.

Kingsley caught Hermione's eye, nodded his head once before striding to the centre of the room. "Well, now we are all here, we can begin."

The room quietened and everyone who was standing found a seat. Once they were all settled Kingsley gave them each a look. "It has come to my attention that Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew survived the final battle."

"What!?"

"How!?"

Everyone seemed to yell at once, except Hermione, Ginny and strangely enough George. Hermione turned to him, an apology ready to fall from her lips. But the look on his face halted her words. His lips were turned up into a smile that Hermione had never seen before. It had a malicious quality that looked wrong on his face. He also looked more alert, more intense.

Hermione turned away from him to look at Kingsley. He was patting the air in a placating manner. "Calm down. Miss Granger will explain everything."

Everyone switched their attention to Hermione. She shifted but managed to meet their baffled gazes. "After the battle I had to be sure that Bellatrix was dead." Every head in the room nodded in understanding. They knew how badly Bella's torture had affected her. "When I went to see the body, it was badly burnt, charred, there wasn't much skin left." She swallowed remembering the lingering smell of cooked flesh and burnt hair, it had stayed with her for days.

"But I knew it wasn't her. I can't explain it. But I knew." She shook her head, "I know the body had been identified by the magical residue left behind, and it showed Bella's signature, but it wasn't her."

"Hermione, I oversaw that spell myself." Arthur interjected softly.

Her head whipped round to face him, "I know and the spell wasn't mistaken. But the body wasn't Bella's."

"That doesn't make sense Hermione. How can it not have been her?" Remus asked, lifting his head for the first time.

"Because it was someone else." she saw the confused looks and held up her hand before anyone could speak. "I asked Kingsley to let me look in the Ministry Vaults. It took ages but I found a book on dark magic that explained how a person could transfer their magical signature to another person."

"No!" Molly gasped wringing her hands in her apron.

Hermione nodded. "When Kingsley rechecked the body and stripped Bella's signature away he found the real magical core, and it belonged to an unregistered user."

Kingsley stepped forward drawing every ones eyes. "I checked the other bodies and discovered that Pettigrew wasn't dead either. Merlin only knows what they've been up to and what they plan to do next."

"So what can we do?" Ginny asked catching Hermione's eye and winking.

"Hermione and I have come up with a plan to capture them and the other Death Eaters." The minister's voice was at his most authoritative. "We need to finish this for good." He flicked his wrist towards Hermione causing everyone to switch there attention back her way again.

She shifted and forced herself to meet their gazes. "I found a spell," her voice came out confidently. "A locator spell that we'll be able to modify to find the Death Eaters."

"That's great 'mione. When can we do this spell?" Ron asked bobbing about in his excitement.

"Well it's not quite as simple as that Ron," she answered grimacing. "First we have to make a list of the Death Eaters we need to catch."

Arthur jiggled his foot in agitation. "We could get that information from the Ministry couldn't we Kingsley?" The eldest Weasley looked from Hermione to the Minister.

"Yes, but we need more than just a name." He indicated that Hermione should continue.

"We also need a personal artefact from the Death Eater, something with their hair, blood or skin would be ideal."

Ron wrinkled his nose in that way that got on Hermione's nerves, "Gross!" he sputtered earning a censoring look from Molly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "yes, well, it doesn't matter how gross it is as long as it works."

Heads nodded their agreement then Kingsley stepped towards Remus, "We could use your help with the spell work Lupin." his voice had softened slightly when speaking to the grief stricken werewolf.

"Of course. Whatever you need." The wolf muttered not even bothering to raise his lowered eyes.

Bill cleared his throat drawing every ones attention to him and away from Remus. "I assume we'll go after Lestrange and Pettigrew first."

Hermione flicked her gaze to Ginny, who gave a tiny nod.

"Actually," she said as nonchalantly as she could, "we won't be able to track those two that way."

"Why not?" Arthur asked frowning.

"They transferred their magical signature onto the bodies, so it would be impossible to try and track them using the locator spell" she said slowly, carefully. It was important that they understood that. Hermione squeezed her hands nervously, digging her nails into the skin on the back of her hand.

"We have, however, found another way to track them down." Kingsley said.

Almost everyone shifted forward impatiently. "Well spit it out!" Ron snapped.

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly yelled, "You do not speak to Minister Shacklebolt in that tone!"

Ron flushed a dull red that clashed horribly with his hair, "sorry," he muttered, not sounding it in the least.

Kingsley inclined his head regally. "Hermione and I have decided that the best course of action is to use a Snatcher, bind him to do our bidding."

Cue explosion.

Both Hermione and Kingsley didn't bother trying to speak, they instead let the yelling and protestations fill the room. It took exactly four minutes and thirty five seconds for everyone to shut up. And when it was quiet it wasn't Kingsley or Hermione who spoke into the silence, but Ginny.

"I think it's a good idea. It makes sense. Use a Death Eater to find a Death Eater, or in this case two." Ginny smiled wryly, "I assume you have a plan to make it happen?"

Hermione hid a grin behind her hand and made a note to order Ginny the biggest bar of chocolate she could find.

"As a matter of fact we have. All we need is your agreement," Kingsley said inclining his head.

Hemione nibbled her lip in worry. She hadn't wanted Kingsley to give the Order members a choice as to whether they agreed or not. She had wanted him to tell them that they were using a Death Eater, and his word on the matter was final.

Beside her George shifted until his arm touched her side and his hair brushed her the top of her cheek. "You've already done it haven't you Granger."

Hermione flicked her eyes to the side. Meeting his pale blue stare. "Yes," She whispered from the corner of her mouth.

An almost smile crossed his lips, "I wish Fred was here to see you being a rebel."

Hermione grinned, "I do to."

She didn't even notice when the room had once again fallen silent, too busy trying to make George complete his smile. But she sat up straight when she heard the words of agreement falling from each of the Order members present. Hermione silently thanked her lucky stars that McGonagall wasn't present. Her former head of house would never have agreed to the use of a Death Eater no matter how necessary. She didn't envy the person who would have to inform her.

"Well I'm glad that everyone agrees, albeit reluctantly," Kingsley said glancing at Molly when he said the last.

"Who will you use?" Bill asked.

Hermione exchanged a look with Kingsley. "Scabior," they said together.

Cue another explosion.

Molly. "No absolutely not."

Arthur. "Is there no one else more suitable?"

Bill. "There must be another way."

Fleur. "It zeems a mistake to use im."

Remus. "No."

Ron. "That Death Eater should be dead! You're not using him."

Ginny and George said nothing.

Pulling in a deep breath, Hermione got up and held up her hand. "It has to Scabior because he's the only one who can do it."

Ron jumped to his feet. "No! 'mione, we are not using him!"

Hermione glared at him, "yes. Ron, we are!"

He flushed that unflattering shade of red again. "I won't let you!"

Hermione snapped to her feet. "How dare you!" She hissed furiously stepping towards him, fists clenched by her side. Merlin, when had he gotten so tall? "We are using Scabior. And Ronald, not only are we using him, I will be with him when he hunts for Bella and Pettigrew!"

"You will not!" Ron shouted stepping into her space and towering over her.

Hermione drew in a breath ready to tear into him, ready to say something that she would probably regret. Only George got there first. Stepping between them and casually pushing Ron back a few steps.

"Shut up Ron," he said calmly, "Granger is the best person for the job and every person in this room knows it."

Ron spluttered, his face contorted into the gormless look he'd worn so often at Hogwarts. "But...she can't!" He said, eyes flashing around the room looking for support. But it seemed as if everyone was more astounded that George had uttered more than a few words and that he was actually taking an interest, than with the thought of Hermione working with Scabior.

"And Granger won't be on her own with him," George said.

"She won't?" Ron choked out.

"I won't?" Hermione asked the shiny back of George's head.

"No." George twisted around and fixed his mother with a desperate look, "I'll be helping them."

Hermione was sure that Molly was going to say no. She had to say no. But when she saw Molly hesitate her shoulders dropped. Having George along was the last thing she needed. She didn't want to have to worry about anyone but herself. And she couldn't shake the image of that malicious smile from her head. George was out for revenge and she didn't think she'd be able to stop him when he tried for it.

Molly nodded in agreement, much to everyone but Hermione's surprise. Even George looked flabbergasted. Like he couldn't believe his mum had agreed.

Plans were made quickly after that. Kingsley would bring Scabior to Grimmauld Place later that night. Hermione suspected that it was so that each of the Order members could threaten him in turn. After that they would gather everything they would need before starting the hunt.

It was decided that Bill, Ron and Remus would use the tracking spell to begin rounding up the remaining Death Eaters. Ginny, Molly, Arthur and Harry, because they couldn't leave him out, would stay at Grimmauld Place and offer back up support. The newly pregnant Fluer would stay at Shell Cottage and do absolutely nothing that would put her in danger. She had sulkily agreed, shooting Bill a glare.

None of it was as detailed as Hermione would have liked, but it was the best they could come up with at such short notice. It would have to do. For now at least.

As soon as the meeting ended, Hermione was the first one out of the door. Quickly running up the stairs and heading for one of the unused rooms. Below she heard the sound of footsteps.

"'Mione!"

She cursed softly and dived through the nearest door, a dusty bedroom with broken furniture and faded upholstery. She softly closed the door and tiptoed further into the room looking for a hiding spot. She eyed the wardrobe but quickly dismissed the idea. Who knew what kind of traps Kreatcher had put in there. In the hall she could hear doors opening and Ron's voice calling her name.

Frantic she gazed around looking for somewhere to hide. Her gaze fell on the window seat, framed by heavy velvet drapes. With no other choice she made her way over and stepped onto the seat, shuffled over until her back hit the wall, and arranged the drape so that it covered her from view. Two seconds passed before Ron opened the door.

"Mione!" He sounded pissed.

The door slammed shut and she heard him march down the hall and towards another room. Hermione rolled her eyes and settled her cheek against the cool pane of glass. He hadn't even searched the room properly. Sometimes it was a wonder that he made it through each day.

Of course at some point she would have to sit him down and tell him that the kiss had been a mistake. That nothing was ever going to happen between them. But even the thought of having that conversation gave her a headache. She knew what would happen. He would loose his temper, then sulk and refuse to speak to her. He would then get Molly onside and Hermione would be made out to be a harlot who had led Ron on. She just didn't want to face that right now. Sighing, she slid down the wall until her bum hit the cushion. It was lumpy and smelt of damp.

 _Why on earth didn't I grab a book?_

In the end she spent an hour staring out of the window watching the oblivious people wandering about in the rain below. When that sight became to depressing she decided to go see if Harry. She desperately wanted to see him before she left. Needed to know that he supported her in this.

Harry was neither awake nor asleep when Hermione crept into his room. He was in that in between stage that could go either way. He wasn't wearing his glasses but he had them in his hand like he was thinking about putting them on. Beside him Ginny was reading the Daily Profit but she'd looked up when Hermione had opened the door. When she saw the way the bushy haired witch was pressing her back against it she rolled her eyes.

"You're about to go hunt Bella and Pettigrew and you're afraid of talking to Ron?"

Harry chuckled, "she knows he'll shout at her," he reached up to put his glasses on, "and then sulk."

Ginny snorted but didn't disagree. "I'll give you guys a minute to talk," she said reaching forward to prop Harry up on his pillows.

"Thanks," Harry said watching the red head as she left the room.

Hermione circled the bed and took the seat Ginny had been using. It was still warm.

"So?" Harry said, "are you sure about this?"

Hermione nodded. "I honestly don't see another way."

"But Scabior? You can't trust him!"

"I know that and I don't intend to." She tapped her foot against the leg of the chair, "I'm just using him to find them."

Harry brushed a hand through his hair, making the already messy strands stick up even more. "I wish I could help you."

"I wish you could too."

"At least you'll have George."

Hermione's eyes darted away from Harry.

"What?"

Hermione shrugged, "nothing." She eyed a damp patch in the corner of the room, following the oblong shape until it disappeared beneath the peeling wallpaper. The whole house was probably covered in the black fuzz. She wouldn't be surprised if it was the only thing keeping the place together. A kind of glue made from mould.

"Hermione?" Harry flapped his hand in front of her face, "tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not sure." She saw Harry tilt his head and sighed, "I think George is out for revenge."

"Can you blame him?"

Hermione was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. Of course George wanted revenge. They all did. It was actually a very small part of the reason Hermione was going after Bella herself. Okay a big part. But she couldn't shake the feeling that George wanted to do more than just catch Bella. He wanted to make her suffer.

Hermione frowned at Harry, not sure how to explain that she just had a bad feeling about that look on George's face. "This is going to be dangerous Harry. Don't you see? The whole thing was planned!" Seeing Harry's green eyes widen in alarm she switched her tone of voice. Less panicked, more soothing. "What Bella and Peter did can't be done on a whim. It takes time." She closed her eyes in disgust. "Those two people they used would have suffered months of having their magic scraped from them until only the core remained."

She opened her eyes to see Harry watching her intently. The skin on his forehead was rumpled. It only did that when he was thinking about something really hard or about to be particularity stubborn.

"Transferring Bella and Peter's Signature is what would have killed the,." She finished softly.

"Maybe we should wait. Find out what they're up to first."

"What? And give them time to plan some more?" She shook her head, "right now we have the advantage."

"What?" Harry pointed to his chest, "me? Or maybe Molly could feel them into giving up!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Honestly, he sounded like Ron.

"Bellatrix and Peter have no idea we know they're alive."

"Will that be enough though?"

"It will if George can keep his temper and not tip anyone off."

Harry winced. He knew all about the Weasley temper, had faced it more than a few times himself. "I don't know Hermione, something feels off. You could get hurt."

"I could get hurt crossing the street Harry," she answered firmly.

Seeing the, don't even think about telling me not to do this, expression on her face, he nodded hid head once in agreement. Then reached forward to grab her hand. It was cool and smooth to the touch and felt fragile beneath his fingers. Ginny's hand had never felt like that. Whenever he held hers, it felt strong and comforting.

"Hermione hunt them if you must, but promise me that if it gets to dangerous, you'll stop, and we'll figure something else out."

She didn't want to promise. Because no matter how dangerous the hunt was going to get she wasn't going to stop until Bella and Peter were behind Azkaban's bars. Hermione looked Harry straight in the eye. Brown meeting green. "I promise."

Harry sighed out his relief and let go of her hand. He didn't have to know that she'd crossed her toes when she'd promised.

They were interrupted by George, who bounced into the room, showing that same excitement he'd had during the meeting. Harry glanced at Hermione, eyebrows raised.

"Hey!" George swung the door closed, "Ron's on his way."

Hermione's eyes widened comically and she half jumped out of her seat.

"Quick! Under the bed!" Harry said.

She gave him an incredulous look, but the identical expressions of delight he and George wore had her dropping to her hands and knees. She squeezed between the bed and floor, laying flat and twisting to get under. It was a tighter gap than it looked, and she had to shuffle awkwardly to get under. The slats pressed into her back pressing her into the dusty floor. Honestly she must be barmy. But they'd both looked so excited at the thought of Hermione Granger hiding under a bed that she hadn't wanted to disappoint. Those two needed a laugh more than anyone else and she wouldn't deny them. Even if it was at her expense.

The door crashed open. "Is Hermione here?" Ron said.

"Can you see her?" George asked sinking into the chair.

"No."

Harry shifted on the bed causing the slats to dig into her a little more. "Well I guess that means she isn't here then."

Ron huffed and she could well imagine the petulant look on his face.

"I think I saw her upstairs," George offered, using his foot to sweep under the bed and brush against Hermione's side.

"Right. I'll see you later," Ron muttered heading out the door.

As soon as he was gone she wriggled out and scowled at the giggling wizards.

"I'm not ever doing that again," she snapped brushing off the dust coating her front.

"But it was funny!"

"Shut up George." She switched her gaze to Harry, "and you can stop laughing as well."

He did stop laughing but only because a yawn took over. "I think I need to sleep again."

George gave him a look of disbelief, "how can you still be tired?"

"I actually have a theory about that." She sat on the bed next to Harry. "I think Voldemort used a spell during the final battle."

"What kind of spell?"

"I'm not sure exactly, but everyone who was at Hogwarts is suffering badly from fatigue and all of our magic is running low." She flicked her hand randomly about. "I asked Kinglsey to check the Death Eaters who were at the battle, and they have the same symptoms."

Harry's eyes were rapidly drooping so she rushed on, "those of us who were closest to you and Voldermort seem to be suffering the most. I think that when Voldermort realized he was losing he tried to drain the magic from those around him."

"Only it wasn't enough," Harry muttered.

Hermione nodded. "No it wasn't."

George cocked his head in thought. "If snake face could do that kind of spell why didn't he do it before?"

"Because you can't take some ones magic and make it your own. That's not how it works. Your body can't contain it. I think, you know who, panicked. He knew Harry was going to kill him so he figured he'd give it a try." She drew her lip through her teeth. "It's probably part of the reason he died." She looked at Harry. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and even. Asleep.

They sat for a while listening to him. Each thinking about what Voldemort had taken from them. Had taken from everybody.

"George?"

"Yes?"

Hermione took a breath. "We take no risks on this hunt. We don't let our emotions rule us. And it's important that we only use our magic when we have to. The less we use, the quicker we recover."

"You're the boss," he said wryly, "how long will it be before we're back to full strength?"

"A couple of weeks if we're careful."

He jabbed his chin at Harry, "and him?"

"Months." Hermione said reaching across to take off Harry's glasses. She folded them on the bedside table. "You should pack what you want to take. I can put it in my bag for you."

"Will do." George got up, "when do we leave?"

"Kingsley's bringing Scabior over later. We'll eat something first and then leave."

He nodded his head and left the room. She hoped he packed sensible things.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to all who've reviewed, fav'd and followed this story.**

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Chapter Five

Scabior wandered around the upper floors of the Burrow. It was his ninth tour of the place and he still hadn't found anything to take his mind off how bored he was. But he had found a bedroom that reeked of Pettigrew. Oily and rancid. It permeated from a rat cage which sat on a desk in the corner of the room. He'd spent a few minutes earlier learning Pettigrew's flavour, it was just a pity he wouldn't be able to use it when it came down to hunting him. Kingsley had told him last night that Bella and Pettigrew had managed to shed their magical signature. And it was a persons magic that Scabior had the knack of finding. Not that he'd tell the Minister or Hermione that. Or of the other ways that could be used to track them. No, this would be an old fashioned hunt. A nice slow tracking. One that would give him time to find a way out of his oath, and the curse binding his magic removed.

Kingsley had left a couple of hours ago, muttering something about an Order meeting. The minister had warded all of the doors and windows before he left, allowing no-one but himself to enter or leave. He had also taken Scabior's wand with him. That had pissed the snatcher off. After all, his wand was no better than a piece of stick now, so what did it matter if he had it or not? It wasn't as if he'd be able to use it to hurt anyone. Unless he shoved it through their eye socket. That was bound to sting a bit, but it would be a lot more up close and personal than magic.

Of course he'd understood the moment Hermione Granger had come to see him in Azkaban, that he would be swapping one prison for another. He just hadn't realized the invisible bars would chaff him so much.

But at least this one had fresh air. And what did it matter if this freedom was only an illusion? He'd take it over the claustrophobia of Azkaban any day. Or he would have done, until he found out he'd be hunting Bellatrix, fucking, Lestrange.

The lovely Hermione had played him well with that one. But she'd find out, soon enough, that nobody crossed Scabior. His own mother hadn't even dared. And the pretty dove would learn that lesson as well. A sneer curled his lip as he thought of ways he would make her pay. It passed a few pleasant minutes.

Suddenly, he paused mid-stride, head twisting to the side. He could smell her. Peach and roses and books. Closing his eyes let him pinpoint the scent of her, the unique essence of what made her who she was. His nostrils flared and he had it. The magic that wove through her soul.

Spinning on his heel, he back tracked a few steps until he came to a flimsy looking door. He used his foot to tap it open and saw that it was a bedroom. Twin beds, a wardrobe, bookcase, chest of drawers and bedside cabinet decorated the room. The walls were painted a muted green and the bedding and drapes were cream with little yellow hearts.

Scabior glanced at the two beds and knew immediately which one the bushy haired witch had slept in. He strolled over, sat, then kicked up his boots and lay down. Lacing his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes and bathed in her scent. It was oddly soothing.

He must have fallen asleep because when he woke up, it was almost dark. A sound downstairs had him leaping to his feet and reaching for a wand that wasn't there. He scowled, remembering the Minister taking it before he left.

"Scabior!" Kingsley's voice drifted up.

The Snatcher instantly relaxed on hearing the voice. Then made his way downstairs and into the living room where the Minister was tapping his fingers against the side of his robes impatiently. When he saw Scabior he stopped. "Where were you?"

Scabior cocked his eyebrow, "just 'avin a nap."

The minister's lips tightened. "We'll be heading over to the Orders headquarters shortly, I'll need a vow that you won't disclose the location to anyone before we leave."

"Another secret for me to keep? I should be charging yer." Scabior straightened the sleeves of his coat, "the delightful Miss Granger could work off the debt."

He eyed the Minister carefully as he spoke, expecting the wizard to jump to the defence of one Harry Potter's best friends. To threaten and warn him into behaving himself around the curly haired witch. He did neither. But he did smile. An amused curving of lips and flash of white teeth.

Scabior's eyes narrowed in thought. Clearly the Minister believed the Granger girl could look after herself. Anticipation stirred in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he could play with his little Kitten before getting his revenge. It _would_ make it all the more sweeter.

"Come. We'll do the vow now." Kingsley said breaking into Scabior's thoughts.

He sighed, more for show than any real irritation and preformed the oath. The minister was kind enough to let him keep his wand when they'd finished. Scabior immediately shoved it up the sleeve of his left arm, beneath his coat and shirt and next to the skin that bore the faded dark mark.

When he glanced up, Kingsley was eyeing him coolly. "I don't need to remind you that any wrong step you take will land you back in Azkaban before you can blink."

Scabior spread his fingers on his chest in mock outrage, "as if I would."

Kingsley huffed, "and Mr Scabior?" The snatcher winced at the added title, "if you would like to keep your balls I would suggest that you not mention to any of the Weasley's where you have been staying since your release."

"Yet another secret? Careful Minister we might get mistaken fer friends."

Kingsley didn't answer, instead making his way to the door and gesturing for Scabior to follow him. He dropped the wards and stepped over the threshold, Scabior a few steps behind.

"I'll apparate you there." The Snatcher merely smiled in reply.

Pulling in a deep breath, Kingsley grabbed Scabior's arm, squeezing tighter than he needed to and apparated them away with a loud pop.

They arrived on the steps of Gimmauld Place. It was dark and the only light came from the windows and a sickly orange street light a few feet away. Scabior studied the building, taking a note of how many windows there were and which, apart from the door, would make the best escape route.

Not that he was planning to escape. He had his little dove to break first. But it was a habit formed of years of snatching, before that even, when he was just a child. Being inside made his skin creep in a decidedly unpleasant way. The need to be outside and running was strong. Following his instinct when it told him where whatever he was looking for could be found. The Snatcher in him had demanded to be let out at every opportunity. So most times he let it. Not even trying to control himself or his talent. It was what made him the best Snatcher around.

The truth was that any longer in Azkaban would have driven him mad. His edges had been fraying badly when Hermione Granger had come to see him. Snatcher's weren't meant to stay bound to one place. The need to chase was to strong, whether it was a plant or a person, they needed to search. Discover the hidden. Hunt. Snatch.

Next to him, Kingsley had opened the door and now stood inside the house waiting for him to enter. He stepped in with the arrogant confidence he knew was mildly annoying. The house stank of damp and dust and faintly, dark magic. He scanned his surroundings, eyes halting at a door that he assumed led to the dining room, if the smell was anything to go by.

"Just in time for dinner!" He rubbed his hands together, gleeful at the thought of a decent meal. Kingsley must have thought the same thing because he stepped towards the door, almost getting hit in the face when it swung open.

A quivering Ron Weasley stood on the threshold, glaring at Scabior. "You!"

"So it would seem." The snatcher smoothly replied, which only infuriated the red head even further. A blush circled his neck and as Scabior watched, began to slowly creep up his neck.

"If you hurt Hermione in anyway, I'll kill you!" Ron spat.

"Mr Weasley! please calm down." Kingsley stepped between the two, his back facing Scabior so that he didn't see the smirk the Snatcher sent the enraged red heads way.

Ron's eyes bulged and he lunged at Scabior, managing to grab a hold of the lapel of his coat. Scabior grinned evilly, reaching up to press his fingers into the nerves of Ron's wrist. Pinching deep and hard. He didn't only need magic to cause pain. Of course it wouldn't hurt the boy at first. It would be numb to any sensation. But later it would feel like someone was driving ice cold nails through the tips of his fingers.

Ron was pulled away, not by Kingsley who'd been squashed between them when Ron lunged, but by Arthur and Molly. They each held one of their son's arms and managed to hold the struggling wizard in place.

Scabior traced his bottom lip with his tongue. A gesture he knew made him look like a lecherous pervert. "I wouldn't dream of 'urting the lovely girl." He stared Ron right in the eye as he spoke. Goading him into losing his temper. But it was Molly who stepped into his space. Her head only just reached the tip of his nose, and she had to tilt it back so she could glare at him.

"Now you listen to me, and you listen good." Molly poked him in the chest as she spoke, "if you put one toe out of place, just one, you'll have me to answer to, and I promise you I can make Azkaban look like a walk in the park!" She jabbed him one last time in the chest. "And if anything happens to Hermione or George, Ron won't kill you. I will!"

Scabior stilled, flicking his eyes to Kingsley. The minister calmly met his gaze.

"Ha!" Ron scoffed, "you didn't think we'd let you and Mione be alone together did you?"

Scabior eyed the boy in distaste. Of course that's what he'd thought. No one had told him otherwise. It didn't matter though, because if the other Weasley son was as quick to temper as Ron, then he would still be able to have his fun. This way he had two to mess with instead of one.

He looked back at the gloating boy, dislike sharpening his features. One side of his mouth kicked up into a half smile. Slowly he lowered his head until his lips were level with Molly's ear. "Don't worry, your treasures will be safe with me." His eyes never left Ron's.

The dull flush returned to the red haired boys cheeks.

Scabior winked.

The final thing needed to to push Ron over the edge. He was aware of Kinglsey sighing and Arthur muttering before Ron's wand was thrust in his face. The Snatcher immediately backed up, hands raised to show he was unarmed. His face wore an expression of concerned innocence.

"Ron Weasley! Put that wand down at once!" Kingsley shouted.

Ron twitched but didn't drop his wand. Perhaps the boy was smarter that he looked, thought Scabior.

"Son, do as the minister says." Arthur said.

Ron lowered his wand. Then again perhaps he wasn't.

Kingsley shifted until his stood by Scabior. "Arthur, I think it's best if you take your son somewhere where he can cool down."

Arthur nodded and pulled the young red head away. Molly huffed, arms crossed and glared accusingly at Scabior.

He rolled his eyes. That had almost been to easy. A little innuendo and a wink weren't usually enough to make someone blow there top. The idiot wouldn't have lasted five minutes in a Snatcher camp, and he honestly found it hard to believe the boy had anything to do with the Dark Lord's demise.

"Is that your beef stew I can smell Molly?" Kingsley asked trying to defuse the tension.

Molly ground her teeth in reply. Scabior could hear them scraping against each other. She wouldn't have any left if she kept it up.

"Well." The Minister gestured to the dining room. "Shall we?"

Molly spun on her heel and marched towards the room Kingsley had indicated.

As Scabior was about to take a step forward to follow, Kingsley stopped him with a hand on his chest. He eyed the Minister in question.

"Don't do that again." Kingsley said dropping his hand and following Molly before Scabior could reply.

The Snatcher shrugged. Asking him to do that was like trying to hold back the tide. Impossible.

The first person he saw when he entered the room was Hermione. She had her eyes fixed on her plate.

"'ello again Darlin'." Scabior smirked when her shoulders tightened, but she didn't look up or speak to him. "Thought you would've come to me rescue back there."

"Perhaps I think you deserved it." She muttered.

He would have gone to sit next to her but she had a wolf on one side and yet another Weasley on the other. So in the end he sat by Kingsley. The table was quiet as Molly served them. No body daring to look the furious matriarch in the eye.

When it was Scabior's turn, she took his plate, spooned on some stew and mash and threw it down in front of him. A good portion slid onto the table with a splat.

Kinglsey was already tucking in. "You've excelled yourself this time Molly." He said.

Scabior agreed. It was good. Tender and full of flavour. But then again anything tasted better than the gruel he'd been fed at Azkaban. That had always had a grittiness and fishy taste that lingered in the mouth hours later. He'd also spotted the guards spitting in his food more than once, and the water often smelt faintly of piss. So, yeah, this was infinitely better.

"Have some more George." Molly scooped stew onto the plate of the Weasley who sat next to Hermione. "You to Remus."

Scabior paused to grab a slice of bread. So that was George. He eyed the lanky boy as he mopped up some gravy. Looking for a weakness, a chink in the armour. He vaguely remembered hearing that one of the Weasley children had died during the battle...Fred, a twin. Was this the brother? Or was it one of the other endless Weasley's?

Hermione shifted, catching his attention. She'd finished eating but was waiting patiently for everyone else to do so. Ever the polite princess. He eyed her slim neck, able to see how fragile it was without her hair obscuring it.

Sensing his attention, her eyes turned to meet his. He gave her a wolfish smile and she scowled, but didn't look away. Slowly he let his eyes trail down her face, along her nose, pausing at her lips, then down her neck, her chest. He stopped there, lingering on the swell of her breasts. Then he inched his way back up, expecting to meet those fire whiskey eyes again. Only the little minx wasn't looking at him. She was facing the wolf. But there was a slight blush tingeing her cheeks that made him smile.

"Remus?" Hermione said, "I'll need to show you the locator spell before we leave."

"Of course. We'll do it now." The wolf got up and left the table, followed by Hermione.

Scabior watched her until she was out of sight. Then went back to his food, ignoring the rest of the table until he finished. He pushed his plate away and patted his flat stomach.

"Lovely." Molly's face scrunched up at the compliment.

"And where do you think you're going?" Scabior paused, halfway out of his seat.

Molly pointed at his chair. "You'll sit there and not spread your filthiness around this house." Her gaze flicked over his clothes in disgust.

Scabior sat back down, slightly offended. His clothes were his pride and joy and they'd cost him a fair few galleons as well. They might look dirty but that was only because they were spelled to appear that way. And that wasn't the best thing about them either.

No, the best thing was the charm woven through the fabric. A charm that stripped the clothes of any scent other than what surrounded him.

Being able to do that allowed him to sneak up on people with them even realizing he was there. So when he was in the forest, he smelt of trees, earth and wet leaves. By the sea, he would smell of salt and seaweed. Right now he reeked of Grimmauld Place.

Kingsley and George left the table leaving him alone with Molly and her death glare. He sat there for an hour, alternating between a sneer and a smirk. His face was starting to ache by the time George came back.

"We're ready to go." George said, rushing over to give his mum a hug.

Molly wrapped her arms around him. "Be careful! Don't you dare make me regret this." she reluctantly let go, "and take care of Hermione."

Scabior didn't miss the look she sent his way. Finally George backed away from his mother, jutting his chin at the Snatcher as he passed. Scabior followed him.

Hermione was waiting for them next to the front door. She was wearing a grey wool coat, scarf and well worn leather boots. Her right hand held a beaded purse and nothing else.

"Miss me pretty?" Scabior said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No. I can assure you there will never come a time when I'll miss you."

George scoffed. The Snatcher merely bared his teeth. Hermione opened the door and stepped outside. George made to follow but Scabior shoved him aside and stepped next the the witch. He deliberately stood to close, knowing by the way her lips tightened, that it annoyed her. George joined them on the step, making a loose circle.

"Ready Granger?" He asked.

"Yes. The sooner we start and all that." She turned to Scabior, "we'll portkey out of here, set up camp and you can start the hunt from there."

"Whatever you say Kitten."

Hermione reached into her pocket to pull out a portkey. This one was a fragment of broken tile. It was barely big enough for each of them to touch.

"Portus!"

Scabior held his breath as the portkey activated. He hated travelling this way. It always left him on the verge of being sick. He swallowed it back as he landed. His first instinct was to look around. Almost dark, wide open space, heather covered ground.

"Where are we Cupcake?" He eyed the witch as she plunged her hand into the purse up to her elbow.

"Yorkshire moors." She pulled a bundle out of the bag and handed it to George. "Can you put this up?"

George thumped his chest, "I'm a man. Of course I can."

Hermione smiled. The first one Scabior had seen grace her face. It suited her. Smiling. She looked carefree and a little wild. It wasn't the smile of a know it all book worm. It faded quickly when she looked at him.

"I have something for you." Hermione once again searched in her bag.

As she looked, Scabior took the few steps that would bring him next to her. His arm brushed hers and she huffed out a breath and took a step away from him.

"Ah, here it is," her hand emerged from the bag holding a scrap of pink fabric.

"You'll 'ave to enlighten me Pet."

Hermione gave him a wide eyed look of innocence. "It's your tracking device. You were fond of my last one so I thought I'd give you another." She pushed the silky material into his hand, "see that you wear it at all times." she then spun around and walked over to help George put up a tent.

Scabior eyed the tracking device. A scarf. A feminine, women's scarf. His lip kicked up in a genuine smile. Her humour was as twisted as his own. He looped the scarf around his neck. It smelt of her. He couldn't say he was displeased.

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 **Okay, so the action is going to be starting pretty soon and this story will start to earn its 'M' rating when that happens.**

 **Thanks again for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter Six

It took five minutes to set up the tent. Hermione ended up taking over from George, because despite him being a man, he apparently didn't know up from down or right from left. It was actually painful watching him fumbling around with what should have been an easy task. Whilst she was busy with the tent, she had Scabior set the wards, making sure he modified them so that they would allow the three of them to pass through without them needing to be deactivated each time. It was more complicated magic, but she was curious to see if Scabior could actually pull it off. He did it effortlessly.

It also stopped him from hovering around her, but mostly it was so she and George wouldn't have to waste their magic unnecessarily.

Now, they sat inside the tent at a trestle table ready to plan what to do next. George sat beside her, scabior opposite. He was wearing the scarf with an arrogant confidence that somehow made it seem as if it was made for him. He didn't seem bothered that he wouldn't be able to take it off again, not until Hermione gave him permission anyway.

It was dark outside and they had to use camping lamps to see by. Hermione pulled the one set on the table nearer to the centre, casting the corners of the tent in shadow. She hated using it again, the tent not the lamp, but they had little choice. Apparating here, there and everywhere, just wasn't an option for them right now. But Merlin she hated the reminder of how awful the hunt for the horcruxes had been. How depressed and hopeless she'd felt. How tired. She kept looking up and expecting to see Ron or Harry pop through the flap and sit down.

"So, how do we do this?" Hermione asked glancing from George to Scabior.

"You mean you don't have a plan?" George spluttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Shut up George." She turned to Scabior, "well?"

The snatcher eased back in his chair, stretching out his legs so that his feet touched Hermione's ankles beneath the table. She immediately tucked her legs under her chair and away from him.

Scabior grinned, "We wait." He said simply.

Hermione gave a surprised blink. "What do you mean, 'we wait'?"

"Exactly what I said Sweetheart."

George thumped his fists onto the tabletop, making Hermione jump. "But we need to find them!"

Scabior cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he studied the angry redhead. "And find 'em we will...just not this second."

Hermione swallowed back a hint of unease as she looked at George. These emotional outbursts weren't like him at all. They were more Ron than George. She swayed forward catching his attention, "we can't rush this George. Bella and Peter are dangerous and they won't be easy to catch." She brushed her hand over his tightly clenched fist. "No risks, remember?"

George huffed out a breath, "yeah, sorry." He shot her a sheepish look. But the expression didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I mean it George. No mistakes." Hermione stared at him intently. Willing him to understand that this was serious. That lives were at risk. Their lives. But she could tell by his face that he either didn't get it or he didn't care. The latter worried her.

"Give Beautiful yer word and we can continue." Scabior drawled.

George scowled, crossing his arms and looking every bit the petulant child. "Al right, al right, I promise, okay?"

Hermione frowned. It would have to do. But that bad feeling continued to eat away at her. It felt like her insides were slowly imploding. She shouldn't have brought him. She just hoped she wasn't going to regret it. Not to much at least.

When she glanced away she saw that Scabior was watching her. Deep blue eyes narrowed in speculation. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, he was trying to figure out what was going on inside her brain. She wondered if he could perform Legilimens. His file said he couldn't, but that didn't really mean anything. He could have lied, and Hermione had the feeling that he did that quite often. But she didn't think he had about Legilimens.

She broke eye contact, dropping her gaze to his thin lips, just to be sure. "What are we waiting for?"

Scabior reached up to play with the edge of the scarf circling his neck. "We're waiting for Archie."

"Whose Archie?" George and Hermione said at the same time.

Scabior flicked his gaze to Hermione, "Archie is what yer might call a sympathizer."

"Of Voldermort?"

"Voldermort, Death Eaters, anyone who deals in dark magic." He pulled his hand away from the scarf and placed it on the table.

Hermione tracked the movement, noticing how narrow his fingers were. "That's all very well and good but we're not hunting Archie. We want Bella and Peter."

George sat up, glaring at the Snatcher. "Yeah! Why aren't we going straight after them?"

Scabior narrowed his eyes, "Watch yer tone boy."

George jumped to his feet, eyes flashing blue fire. "Fuck you!"

Hermione winced and quickly circled the table until she stood in front of George. She placed a hand on his chest in the hope that it might calm him down. "Go take a walk."

"Mione..."

"Please, George." She gave him the look that she used to use on Harry and Ron when she wanted them to do something she'd asked. Even if they didn't want to do it, they usually did.

George shoved his hands in his pockets, gave Scabior one last dirty look and stomped out of the tent. It was like having Ron back all over again.

She sighed, walked back to her chair and sat down. The Snatcher was watching her without expression. His hair a messy halo around his head.

"Why aren't we going after Bella and Peter?" She spoke softly, eyes dropping to watch her finger trace patterns on the tabletop.

Scabior shifted forward, placing his hands near to her doodling one. Almost like his was caging it in. "I need a starting point Dove."

"And this Archie will give you one?"

"He deals in information, and if anyone knows anything of Pettigrew and Lestrange it'll be 'im."

Hermione lifted her eyes and stared at him for a long moment. "You can do this can't you?"

Scabior's face twisted in anger, "course I can. I can find anything or anyone yer want me to." he slapped his hand on the table, "Yer wouldn't be doubting me would yer Pretty?" Annoyance sharpened his tone.

Hermione shook her head, "I don't doubt that you can do it." She stood up but didn't break eye contact, "but I am starting to doubt that you will."

His eyes darkened at her words and his face looked set in stone. "I gave my word Precious, 'n a Snatcher never breaks his word." He stood, body tight with tension. "I'll find 'em Kitten, you see if I don't."

She didn't believe him. He was trying to twist his way out of the deal. But not obviously enough that she could call him out on it.

"I'm going to read, don't bother me unless it's time to go." She made her way towards her camp bed, "and please don't wind George up any nore than you already have." She threw the last over her shoulder before unhooking the curtain that would shield her bed from the rest of the tent.

She immediately lay down and slung an arm over her eyes. Which is where she stayed for the next two and a half hours. No body sought her out and she was glad. It gave her time to think. Which should have been a good thing. Thinking calmed her down. Made her feel as if she had some measure of control. Only this time it didn't work. This time she couldn't think, all she could do was remember.

A carousel of memories spinning around and around her head. The day she'd obliterated her parents and lost them forever. The final battle at Hogwarts, with so many bodies, twisted and bloody and discarded on the floor in a place that should have been safe. Bella perched on top of her, cackling insanely and slicing her arm with a cursed blade.

Before she knew it she was crying. Tears leaking from her eyes to trickle down into her hairline. She made sure to breathe through her mouth so George and Scabior wouldn't hear her gasping breaths. She cried until her eyes began to feel dry and itchy. Which should have been impossible, but she somehow managed it.

"Mione?" George's voice broke through her misery as cleanly as a bucket of water.

Hermione sat up, "Yes?"

"The Snatcher said we're good to go." George said.

"Okay. I'll be there in a second." she scrubbed at her eyes with her hands trying to erase any evidence of her mini breakdown. She patted her hair to tidy it up but only managed to pull more strands from her messy bun. Unable to put it off any longer, she got up, pulled on her coat, checked her wand and then flung the curtain aside.

The tent was empty but she could hear low voices mumbling outside. Taking a deep breath she made her way through the flap. It was full dark now and the only reason she could see them was because they had cast a Lumos spell on their wands. Carefully she made her way over to them, going slowly so she didn't trip on any protruding rocks or clumps of heather.

"Hurry up Granger!"

Hermione gave George a dirty look. He didn't notice, to busy jiggling from foot to foot. But Scabior did. He also noticed that she'd been crying. She could tell by the way his eyes traced her face, lingering on her damp cheeks and red rimmed eyes. A tiny smile tugged at his lips but he didn't comment.

"Well?" She snapped, tilting her face away from him.

"Archie likes a drink Pet," Scabior said, "an' right about now he'll be on his way home."

"And you want us to catch him before he gets there?" Hermione said noticing that his eyes were smudged with Kohl and his hair sported the red streak again. She hoped that meant he was ready to begin the hunt for Bella and Peter.

"There'll be no better time." He reached out to Grab George's arm, but kept his gaze fixed on Hermione, "I'll apparate us there shall I Sweetness?"

Seeing no other option, Hermione reluctantly nodded and held out her hand ready for him to take. Only he didn't. Instead his arm snaked around her waist and pulled until her body bumped against his. It happened so fast that she didn't have time to protest, or kick him in the balls as Ginny had once shown her.

"Wouldn't want to lose yer, Lovely girl." His breath tickled her ear as he spoke and she felt his fingers slip from her waist to her hip in one seamless move.

She was about to push herself free when she felt the tell tale tug of apparition in the pit of her stomach. They landed in the middle of a narrow lane, hedgerows pressing in on both sides. The sky dark and starless. George dropped to his knees and was sick, bringing Molly's stew and mash and what smelt like sour fire whiskey back up.

Hermione faired better, managing to swallow back her own vomit, and keep it down until the dizziness had passed. When it had, she realized that she was still being held by Scabior. His thumb was stroking her hip in a steady rhythm that felt oddly soothing. She lifted her head from his shoulder and backed away.

The side that had been pressed against him felt colder, so she gathered her coat around herself and squatted down beside George. She placed her hand on the part between his shoulder blades and patted. "Are you okay?"

George nodded, "Yeah, but lets not do that again."

Scabior snorted. "I'm working with amateurs."

Merlin he was annoying. That had been the worst apparition she'd ever experienced. Her stomach still felt like it might belch out its contents at any moment.

Hermione looked up and down the empty lane, "well, where is this Archie then?"

"He'll be 'ere." The Snatcher wandered a few feet away, using his wand to illuminate his surroundings.

Hermione pulled out her own wand, cast lumos and joined a green looking George by the side of the road.

"How do we do this Granger?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe double team him? I'll Accio his wand and you cast a Incarcerous spell, if we do it quickly he won't have time to cast." She tipped forward, closing the distance between them, " and don't let Scabior know how drained we are. No unnecessary magic." She whispered.

George nodded. "Do you think he apparated us like that on purpose?"

"Yes." Hermione flicked her eyes towards the Snatcher. He was making his way back to them with that arrogant stride. "When he does have to apparate us again, make sure you hold onto him. I wouldn't put it passed him to 'accidentally' let go half way through."

The colour drained from George's face at the thought of what kind of damage that could do to a person. It would be less splinching and more like being shoved through a meat grinder.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?" Scabior said placing his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

She dug her elbow into his ribs. Hard. He huffed out a breath but didn't otherwise move. "Now are we gonna stand 'ere all night, or are we gonna get ready to snatch Archie?" Scabior asked whilst idly drawing patterns in the air with his wand.

Hermione remembered doing the same thing with a sparkler as a child. She shrugged free of his arm and stepped closer to George. "Well, lets get on with it then."

Scabior stilled his wand and used it to point out a place further up the lane. "We'll wait there."

They made there way to where he'd pointed. George and Hermione stood for a second until Scabior rolled his eyes and shoved them both into the ditch.

"Hey!" George yelped, ankle deep in muddy water.

Hermione had managed to miss the puddle but still sank a couple of inches into the sticky mud.

"Oops." The Snatcher said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

He stepped down into the ditch and onto a clump of grass next to Hermione. "Now we lay 'ere and wait."

Hermione exchanged a look with George. "You want us to lie in the mud?" She asked.

Scabior sneered at her, "if it's not to much trouble Princess."

Hermione watched as the Snatcher arranged himself on the ground managing to perch on the thicker clumps but remain hidden by the long weeds, grass and protruding hedge. Anyone coming along the lane wouldn't be able to see him until it was to late. She looked at George, shrugged and dropped to her knees, wrinkling her nose when she felt water seeping into her jeans. She quickly sank to her chest, extinguished her wand and folded her hands beneath her chin.

Beside her George was splashing and muttering as he settled down. A few moments later both he and Scabior extinguished their wands, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

"How do you know this Archie is going to walk passed here anyway? Won't he just apparate home?" George muttered.

Hermione turned her head in the Snatcher's direction, waiting to hear his answer. She could just about make out the pale blur of his face.

"He lives up there." His arm, a darker shade than the surrounding air pointed passed Hermione and George. "As to why he doesn't just apparate, would you chance it with half a bottle of fire whiskey in yer belly?"

"No, I guess not." George said shifting closer to Hermione in the hopes of finding a drier spot.

"But how do you know he'll even come this way? And how do you know he hasn't already passed by." Hermione asked the snatcher.

"We'll Dove, if I told yer that I'd have to kill yer."

Hermione tutted, about to tell him he could try, when the Snatcher went perfectly still. It was like he'd suddenly turned to stone beside her.

"Hush now. He's near." Scabior whispered.

Instantly George and Hermione went quiet, trying to mimic the Snatcher. Hermione could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Her hands started to sweat and her right foot began to tremble.

It seemed an endless amount of time before they saw a light coming towards them. From a distance it would be mistaken for a torch. Her heart continued to thud as the figure came closer. She didn't dare move or look to intently in case her attention tipped him off to her presence.

So she waited, Accio ready to fall from her lips. It was when he was almost level with them that George leapt up, taking her by surprise.

"Accio Archie's wand!" She yelled, holding her hand aloft to catch the flying wand. It clipped her fingers and landed somewhere behind her in the hedge. "Damn!" She said scrambling to her feet and smearing mud all down her front in the process.

"Incarcerous!" George's voice came from somewhere ahead. She spun around at the sound of a scuffle.

"Lumos." She held her wand out and saw George sitting astride what must have been Archie. A manic smile pulled at his lips as he pressed the man's face into the ground to prevent a wandless cast.

Hermione turned back to the hedge, "Accio wand!" This time she caught it and stuffed it in her pocket. She looked up to see where Scabior was, and saw him standing casually in the middle of the lane. He had his thumb tucked in the waist of his ridiculous pants, and his other held his illuminated wand down by his side.

"Four out of ten for yer first snatch Kitten." Scabior said, eyeing her mud covered front.

She turned her back on him to look at George. "Is he secure?"

George grabbed the back of Archie's hair. "Yep."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding.

"Where is Bellatrix Lestrange!?" George's hissed question pulled Hermione's attention back to him.

"Oi! Answer me!" George dug his wand into the side of Archie's neck.

"George!" Hermione said reaching down to grasp his arm. He shook her off, almost knocking her to the ground. "Stop! What do you think you're doing?" She said regaining her balance.

"We need him to answer our questions, Mione." George said. His voice had a angry edge that she'd never heard him use before.

Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. She nibbled her lip unsure of how to regain control of the situation.

"Might I suggest yer find somewhere more discreet to do this." Scabior said in a bored tone.

Hermione blinked. "Yes...umm."

The Snatcher sighed in aggravation, "there's a barn in the next field."

Hermione nodded her head. "George, let him up."

George was rough as he pulled Archie to his feet, giving Hermione her first real look at the wizard they'd snatched. He was around forty, and had one of those faces that was set in a permanent scowl. His hair was black and long, reaching his waist. He looked tiny compared to George, who easily held him by his shoulders. She could smell the drink on him from where she stood a few feet away. He had yet to speak.

"Well take him to the barn, and I'll question him there." She said with false confidence.

George scowled but didn't disagree with her. Hermione turned to Scabior, "if you wouldn't mind leading us?"

Scabior bowed mockingly. "As yer wish Pretty." He spun away and headed to what she assumed would be the barns direction. George shoved Archie forward viciously.

Hermione bit her lip as she followed them. The entire time she walked she had one thought.

 _I have no idea what I'm doing._

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 **Next Chapter up on Sunday. Are you liking it so far?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Decided to post this chapter a day earlier that planned. This one is 'M' rated for some swearing and a bit of violence.**

 **Thanks to all who are reading and especially to those who have reviewed and added me to their fav and follow lists.**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Scabior led the way to the barn. A dilapidated stone building with half a roof and no door. He scanned the area carefully before stepping inside and making his way to the far wall. He avoided the fallen roof and settled against the rough hewn wall, crossing his arms so that his wand pointed to the side and waited for the others to arrive.

George was first to enter, yanking a confused and rapidly sobering Archie behind him. The redhead threw him roughly to the ground so he lay amongst the mud, hay and sheep shit.

Hermione came in next, looking like a lost soul. Her face a mask of panicked resignation. She had a smear of dirt on her chin, just below the curve of her lip. The dark stain emphasized her shock whitened skin. Scabior's fingers itched to wipe the thumb sized dirt away. She was gazing at Archie, eyes a tad to wide, and frowning. It looked like she was trying to figure out what to do next. Scabior guessed that his idea of questioning would be vastly different to hers.

"Sit him up George." She commanded, only the sightest quiver evident.

Scabior watched, amused as George kicked Archie in the side, just below his ribs. "Get up!"

He eagerly switched his gaze back to Hermione. She looked ready to burst into tears, and she was looking at George with a pleading expression in her eyes. The redhead seemed oblivious, or unbothered, by her look, and Scabior could tell she was more upset with George's behaviour than with the treatment Archie was receiving.

Archie struggled into a cross legged position, using the time it took him to look around. That was their first mistake. Giving the wizard time to get his bearings.

When he spotted Scabior he glared, "What do you want?" His speech was slurred but his eyes were sharp. And sharpening with each second that passed.

Scabior pushed himself off the wall and stalked leasurely towards Archie, by passing him at the last moment to stand next to Hermione. He stood close enough that he could feel her trembling, and smell her delicious scent. Stronger now that her emotions were running high.

"I don't want anything, Archie," Scabior placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed. She stumbled forward, "but 'ermione 'ere does."

Archie's eyes passed over the witch, recognition of who she was twisting his face into a mask of hatred, "well, spit it out Mudblood."

Scabior licked his lips in anticipation as Hermione's back stiffened. He expected her to lose her temper, to scream and yell at the insult. To flush red with anger and hurt. She did none of these. She didn't have to because George rushed forward and clipped Archie across the head.

"Watch it." He spat, face flushing almost purple in his rage.

Hermione waved George back, "Where are Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Perttigrew?" Her voice was even as she spoke. Even, enough, that Scabior had trouble guessing what she was feeling.

Archie shifted from his bum to his knees, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Lestrange and pettigrew are dead." His eyes were fixed on his wand, that was protruding from the pocket of Hermione's coat.

The witch cocked her head, "I think you do." she said reaching down to finger the tip of the wand. It was a breath away from being sexual. Scabior smirked and gave her a suggestive wink. She ignored him. But she did move her hand away, and he could see her cheeks were very faintly flushed.

He barked out a laugh and returned to his place by the wall. Content to watch as the drama unfolded in front of him. Of course, he should probably have told Hermione that Archie was a mean bastard and dangerous with it. That she should have bound him at the very least. But it wasn't like he cared what happened to the witch or her incompetent side kick. He was actually looking forward to it.

Archie was still eyeing his wand. And as Scabior watched, Hermione flicked her gaze towards George and blinked. A nice slow one that could only be a sign.

"Tell us where Bella and Peter are." The witch asked. Her tone suggesting she didn't think he'd answer.

"Fuck off, Mudblood! I'm not telling you anything." Archie yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

Hermione shook her head, seemingly unconcerned, "well..." she reached down to slip his wand out of her pocket, "if you don't tell me, I'll have George snap your wand in half."

Scabior pursed his lips, impressed. He hadn't thought the witch had it in her to make such a dispicable threat. Of course, it wouldn't matter what threat she made when Archie lost his temper. She'd regret her words then. The snatcher could already feel Archie's magic churning in annoyance and rage.

"You stupid bitch!" Archie leapt to his feet and collided with Hermione, knocking her to the ground and landing on top of her. "I'm going to fuck you till you bleed, and then I'm going to kill you." He screamed it in her face.

George looked stunned, and did nothing but stare as Archie straddled Hermione. He stood for two full seconds. Scabior had counted. It was only when Archie wrapped his hands around Hermione's delicate throat and began to throttle her, that the redhead moved. Jumping onto the wizard's back and desperately trying to pull him off.

The Snatcher rolled his eyes but made no move to help. Why should he? This was exactly what he wanted. Although he didn't like the way Archie was grinding his lower half against Hermione. And he hadn't liked that comment about fucking her.

He frowned as the witch's face began to turn an alarming shade of purple. She wouldn't be much good to him dead. He cleared his throat, "most wizards would use a wand at a time like this." Scabior said, giving George a hard stare.

The redhead immediately jumped up and pointed his wand at Archie's back. He cast a half hearted knock back curse, probably worried that he'd hit Hermione by mistake. Archie flew off her and hit the wall opposite Scabior. He came up fighting, wand in hand.

Scabior cursed as the hexes started flying. He ducked down, making himself a smaller target. Luckily Archie seemed more concerned with hitting George than aiming for him. He glanced at Hermione and saw her flip over and begin to crawl towards a broken beam. Her face was less purple and more maroon, and when she wasn't gasping, she was attempting to cough up her lungs. But not once did she stop shuffling forward.

Scabior switched his attention back to Archie and George. The fight was getting nasty. Both wizards throwing potentially life threatening curses at each other. A stray hex the colour of molten silver, flew passed George and hit Hermione in the leg. She screamed as her skin, then muscle, split almost to the bone. Tar thick blood streamed out.

Scabior watched it all, jaw ticking and a puzzled look clouding his ink blue eyes. He didn't understand why seeing the blood pulse from her body, and her face twisted in pain, made something in his chest tighten.

Hermione was pressing a hand onto her leg, trying to hold the split skin together as she twisted and awkwardly cast a clotting charm. As soon as the blood began to seep instead of flow she cast aguamenti, washing the wound clean. She took a deep breath and then swiftly cast a healing charm. It would leave a scar, but Scabior knew that that would be the least of her troubles.

Archie was seconds away from beating George. The only reason the redhead was still alive was because Archie was playing with him. Scabior had seen him do it before and it always ended with his victim broken and bleeding on the ground. But what surprised him was how quickly the Weasley boy was fading. It hadn't even been a minute yet, and the redhead was barely deflecting the curses sent his way, he was no longer returning fire.

A couple had even gotten through his defences, further weakening the redhead. Scabior watched uneasily as Archie hit George with a Everte Statum, throwing the redhead into the wall. George hit with a sickening thud. He fell to the floor and didn't move.

Archie was grinning as he turned to Hermione. A sharp predatory smile gracing his thin lips. The sight of it set Scabior's teeth on edge.

"Ready to bleed Mudblood?" Archie said, stalking closer to a white faced Hermione.

"Epoximise!" Scabior said pointing his wand at Archie. He tried not to wince in embarrassment at having to use sticking spell, of all things, to halt the wizard's progress.

It did the job though. Gluing Archie in place before he could reach Hermione. She stood up, favouring her right leg, her left looked like it'd been dipped in blood as did her hand. "Imperio!" she said casting an unforgivable without the slightest hint of hesitation.

Archie froze, the wand he was raising to attack Hermione, falling to his side forgotten. He stared at her with a blank expression. "Don't move." She ordered.

Turning away from him, the witch rushed over to George. Scabior watched her, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. He wasn't sure why he'd helped her. He'd wanted her to suffer. He still did. But not like that. Scabior didn't want to see that kind of pain on his Kitten's face.

And that confused him. He shouldn't matter to him if Hermione Granger was raped. But the thought of Archie spreading her legs and forcing himself inside her, had made him feel...something.

He huffed out a breath and refocused on Hermione. She was bent over George, murmuring in his ear. As he watched she cast a few healing charms over the fallen wizard.

Scabior wandered closer. Hearing him, Hermione turned to track his movement. Her face was pale, and he could clearly see each one the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. Those fire whiskey eyes were wide and wet with unshod tears.

"Thank you." Hermione said.

Scabior blinked, honestly unable to recall if anyone had ever said that to him before. He sneered, brushing aside her words. "Well yer made a mess of that didn't yer Pet?"

Hurt flashed across her face and he was glad for it. It meant that whatever that...compassion... had been, didn't mean anything. He could still get his revenge.

"Granger?"

Scabior switched his attention to George. He looked awful. One side of his face was swollen and bruised and a trickle of blood dribbled from his nose. A scalding curse had hit his chest, and Scabior could see where his T-shirt had melted away and the pale skin beneath was red and blistered.

Hermione helped the injured wizard into a sitting position. "Are you okay?"

George snorted, "never been better."

"Can you wait for me to heal you back at the camp?" Hermione asked, waving her wand back and forth over his chest to see how deep the burn had gone.

"Yeah." George said tipping his head back to rest against the wall.

Hermione used the same wall to struggle to her feet. She avoided looking at Scabior and made her way back towards Archie. He hadn't moved. Not a single inch. Not even to blink.

Scabior studied her as she stood in front of the wizard, who just moments ago had been ready to rape her. She didn't look afraid. She looked tired. Even her wild hair looked limp and lifeless.

He sent a speculative look George's way. He looked the same. A weariness around the edges. A fragile quality that hinted at a lack of magic. He'd seen it before. At Azkaban. Some of the prisoners had that same look. He'd bet his last Galleon it had something to do with the final battle.

It would explain them using the portkey instead of apparating, and how quickly George had seemed to fade during the fight. And when he thought about it, Hermione had barely used any magic during the last few days. It would also explain why he hadn't seen sight nor sound of Harry Potter. Scabior grinned, a quick flash of teeth. Grateful that he had listened to his gut during the battle of Hogwarts and not crossed that bridge. His own magic was as strong as it'd had ever been. Pity, he could only use it to cast piss poor spells now.

He set his eyes back on Hermione. She hadn't spoken and was still staring at Archie's blank eyes.

"Yer gonna stand there all night Dove?"

She started at his voice and then blinked rapidly. "Of course not." she muttered, reaching into her coat and withdrawing a small vial of veritaserum. "Open your mouth."

Archie's mouth snapped open at the command. Carefully, Hermione open the vial and allowed two drops to fall into his mouth and onto his tongue.

She waited ten seconds and then asked, "Where are Bella and Peter?"

"I don't know." Came Archie's even reply.

Scabior studied his nails as Hermione bit her lip in frustration.

"But you have seen them?" She asked, a little desperately.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Death Eater revel."

Scabior's eyes flicked up to meet Hermione's. "Those are still happening?" She asked him.

He shrugged, "wouldn't know Sweetheart, I've been what yer might call...occupied."

Hermione turned back to Archie. "Where are these revels held?"

"Different places."

"When is the next one?"

Archie hesitated, fighting the truth serum, "Tu...Tuesday." He finally spat out.

Scabior tapped his wand in thought, causing the shadows to shift around them. Tuesday was a little over a week away.

"What did Bella and Peter say at this revel?" Hermione asked.

Scabior rolled his eyes. She was asking all the wrong questions. The Snatcher in him was dying to break free, to spew out the questions that would give him the answers that would lead him to Lestrange and Pettigrew. But he reminded himself that he couldn't find Bella and Peter until he'd twisted his way out of the oath and the curse binding his magic.

Archie was again fighting the serum, his face turning a putrid red with his efforts.

"Tell me!" Hermione demanded.

"They were talking about a new Dark Lord," Hermione stumbled back as Archie spoke. "They told us to be ready." The wizard grinned, showing broken decayed teeth, "and when he arrives, you'll be on your knees where you belong!" Archie leered at Hermione as he spat the words at her.

Scabior pushed himself off the wall and approached them, "Imperio's wearing off, Beautiful." He bent down so his lips touched her ear, "Yer not got the strength to hold it Angel?" He whispered, fishing for details and confirmation.

Hermione ignored him, concentrating instead on holding the curse.

"Mione!" George tipped forward, the skin on his chest pulling tight with the movement. He winched but didn't take his hate filled gaze off Archie. "Ask him which Death Eater killed Fred."

Hermione hesitated, clearly not wanting to ask that question, but seeing Geroge's determined look, relented. "Who killed Fred?"

Archie licked his lips, "Evan Rosier." he stumbled forward, seconds away from breaking the imperious.

Hermione lifted her wand and pointed it at him. "Obliterate!" She said erasing his memories of the last ten minutes.

Once she'd completed the spell, Archie fell back to the floor, where he passed out, his hair spread around him in the dirt.

"We'll portkey out." She said, limping over to George. When Scabior didn't immediately join them, she glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised in question.

"Need to clean up a bit first, Dove." He said, circling the barn and vanishing Hermione and George's blood. He didn't want another Snatcher on their trail, messing up his plans. And blood was the fastest way to track someone.

Once satisfied no trace remained, he joined them. They were both already touching the portkey. More than eager to leave. Scabior placed his own finger on the broken tile so it was touching Hermione's blood covered one.

"Portus!"

They left the barn and Archie behind.

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 **So what do you think? Are you liking it so far?  
**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The portkey spat them out beyond the camp wards. As soon as they landed Hermione pressed a hand to her aching thigh. It felt like it was about to split in two again. She could actually feel her skin twitching in two different directions. Beside her George hissed out a pained breath and reached for her hand.

"It's okay George, just breathe." She looked for the Snatcher.

He was standing a few feet away brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves.

"Scabior?" He stilled when his name fell from her lips. "Help me get George to the tent."

The Snatcher's lips set in a mulish line. Hermione knew that when she was stressed she came across as rather bossy. Okay, really bossy. But she hadn't meant to order the Snatcher around. It was just that she was so used to doing it with Ron and Harry. And they had never seemed to mind. But Scabior clearly did.

Hermione closed her eyes, "please?" She said more softy.

Scabior huffed and she was sure he was going to tell her to sod off, but then he bent down and helped George to his feet. He was rougher than he needed to be. It was more yanking than helping.

When George moaned, it was on the tip of her tongue to tell Scabior to be more careful. Only she had the feeling that if she did, George would end up on his arse. The Snatcher had a hard glint to his eyes that she didn't understand. He'd had it since he'd used that sticking spell on Archie.

She cast a dim Lumos and led them towards the tent. As soon as they entered, Hermione rushed to retrieve the first aid kit she'd placed in a chest next to the cooking area. She yanked up the lid and pulled out several potions and healing balms. Behind her she heard George hiss out a curse word and guessed that Scabior had dumped him on the bed.

As she turned back to George, she saw the Snatcher's back heading out of the flap.

"Just try to lay still George." Hermione summoned a chair and small table, arranging them beside the bed.

The first thing she did was pour a pain relieving potion down his throat. George swallowed it eagerly, throat bobbing. The tension eased from his body instantly. For a brief moment Hermione thought about taking one herself, but shook the thought away. Her leg was aching quite badly but it wasn't unbearable and she didn't want to waste supplies unnecessarily. Besides there was nothing that she could do to prevent it from scarring. And everyone said things came in threes. Scarred arm, scarred chest and now, scarred thigh.

She studied George, mentally cataloguing his injuries. The burn was by far the worst, followed by the blow to his face. During her diagnostic check she hadn't found any trace of concussion, and she thought his loss of consciousness was more due to tiredness than a head injury.

"Mione?" George mumbled.

Hermione glanced at George. One of his eyes was swollen shut but the other was fixed on her and glassy with pain. It was the darkest blue she'd ever seen it.

She placed her hand on his forehead, fingers threading through the sweaty red strands sticking to his skin. "What is it?"

"The Dark Lord isn't coming back is he?"

Hermione shook her head, "Of course not. Voldemort is dead, all the Horcruxes were destroyed. He will never come back. "she trailed her hand down his uninjured cheek, "and after we find Bella and Peter, and sort out this nonsense about a new Dark Lord, we're going to find Rosier," she promised fiercely.

George growled his agreement hands fisting at his sides.

"Now. Hold still so I can heal you." Hermione removed her coat and rolled up the sleeves of her jumper.

She reached down and carefully pinched the material of his T-shirt between her thumb and fingers. How to do this? Fast or slow? Either way was going to hurt.

"Just do it Granger." George muttered, taking the choice out of her hands.

Hermione nodded. "Okay. Ready?" She gripped the T-shirt a little tighter, "on Three. One...two...Three!" She pulled the half melted shirt away from his skin in one quick motion. George yelped but didn't tell her to stop. She used her wand to sever the material in half and placed it so it lay on either side of his chest, framing the damage the scolding charm had caused.

She winched at the red and blistered skin. It looked like some one had used sandpaper on him. Some of the bigger blisters had burst and had yellow pus oozing from them. The centre of his chest looked like it had taken the brunt of the curse. Skin was missing, probably still attached to the t-shirt.

"That bad?" He asked.

"No." Hermione gulped, reaching for the strongest burn potion there was. She scooped some of the cold greasy cream onto her fingers, then eyeing the size of the scold, added more. It smelt of lavender and honey as she gently dabbed it onto his chest.

"Better?" She asked, reaching into the pot for more. It was almost gone, but there would be enough left to add another layer.

"Yeah," George said. His eye closed in relief and then snapped open when he thought of something. "I bet mum had a fit when she spotted my clock."

Hermione winched, imagining Molly Weasley's face when the hand on George's clock would have been hovering over mortal danger. She also knew that Molly would blame her for it. Molly always blamed her when something happened to one of the boys. It was part of the reason that she never really felt a part of the Weasley family. Molly's love would only stretch so far. At least when it came to Hermione.

"What do we do next?" George said.

Hermione frowned as she spread the paste along his chest, "I think I should speak to Kingsley." She lifted her hand away from his skin satisfied that it was covered. "I think we're missing something, but I can't see what it is."

She wiped her hands clean on a spare piece of cloth and then reached for a balm that would reduce the swelling on the side of his face.

"Do you think Scabior knows more than he's saying?" George said.

Hermione began to apply the pale green gel to the side of his cheek. "I don't know. I'm sure he didn't know that Bella and Peter survived the battle though. He was honestly shocked when he found out." She gently patted some gel around his swollen eye. "But I do know that we can't completely trust him."

"You think he'll lead us into a trap?"

Hermione bit her lip in thought. She was almost certain the answer was yes. Almost. But he had saved her from Archie. Even if she had the feeling that he had surprised himself more than her, by doing so. Her lip popped free. "I think we should consider anything he suggests as a trap. Just to be safe."

George nodded his head. "Agreed, but I think he has a soft spot for you. We could use that against him."

Hermione was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. "No, George you're wrong. He hates me and I dislike him intensely. Honestly? I couldn't pretend otherwise, he delivered us to Malfoy Manor for goodness sake!"

"But he calls you all those names, and he keeps looking at you," George protested.

"He calls me those names because he's a prat and I imagine he looks at me because he's thinking about ways to kill me in a very painful way!"

George shifted on the bed, "you sure you don't like him a bit?" A cheeky grin pulled up one side of his lips. "You don't usually let anyone call you pet names."

Hermione's face puckered in distaste. "I told you he's a prat, and if he knew how much I hated those names he'd call me twice as many."

George snorted. "Yeah he might start calling you babe or pumpkin or wait! Comely doe!" The Weasley redhead laughed and winched at the same time.

"Comely Doe?" She asked horrified.

"Yeah, cause you're not bad looking Granger, and you know, with those brown eyes," He waved vaguely towards her face, "and delicate features, you actually are very doe like."

Hermione's eyes widened comically. "Don't you dare, EVER, mention Comely Doe to him."

George huffed out a laugh. "I can make no promises Granger!"

"You will, or I'll tell your mother where all your horrid jokes are hidden!"

"You think that will make me promise?" George sounded a little incredulous, "You're not very good at this are you?"

Hermione blinked. No. Apparently she was not, because George still hadn't promised, but he did look exhausted.

"Go to sleep George." she drew a blanket up to his waist but didn't dare let it touch his chest. "I'll need to wake you in a few hours to give you more pain relief and I'll reapply the creams."

George closed his eyes, "whatever you say, my Comely Doe."

Hermione opened her mouth to chastise him but he was already asleep. She desperately wanted to join him. The mere thought of sleep made her want to cry. But before she could, she wanted to talk with Scabior. She needed to know more about the Revels. If only to let Kingsley and the Order know they were still happening.

Sighing she got to her feet and went in search of the Snatcher.

The wind cut through her as she left the tent. Icy cold where her pants were split. It helped ease the pain. For a moment she stood by the entrance to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The air smelt of heather and wet stone. She didn't dare cast a Lumos to see by. She'd used enough magic already. More than she'd planned and much more than she'd wanted. But it had all gone wrong so very quickly.

Her heart thudded at the thought of what could have happened. No doubt Archie would have made good on his threat to rape her. A shiver tumbled down her spine which she immediately shook off. It hadn't happened and it wouldn't happen, she mentally told herself. The problem was she didn't believe it. Bad things happened to good people all the time.

Eyes now adjusted, Hermione scanned the horizon. The sky was a couple of shades lighter that the flat landscape. And it was because the moor was so level that she was able to spot Scabior in the distance. He was the only bump to be seen.

Hermione inched her way over to him, lifting her feet high to avoid getting tangled in the knee high heather. It took at least five minutes to reach him. And once she did she stood next to him, unsure of whether to sit or not.

"Something yer want pet?" Scabior said.

Hermione shuffled, "can I talk to you?"

"Depends on what yer want to say, lovely," he stated, taking out his wand and casting so that a soft glow illuminated them.

Hermione sat down between two straggly shrubs, leaving a foot of space between them, "Tell me about the Revels."

Scabior eyed her, "What do yer want to know?"

"What happens, who goes and where they're held."

The Snatcher chuckled. "So basically everything then, Dove."

"Yes, please," Hermione said.

"Well, let me see," Scabior said tipping back so that he was leaning on his elbows. "Torture, rape, murder, duels, humiliation. A lot of drinkin' of course and a lot of sex. Not for the faint of 'eart, or innocent little witches." His eyes flickered over Hermione's face as he spoke.

"And who attends?" she softly asked.

"Death Eaters."

Hermione looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Will you tell me which ones?"

"No," he said.

"But you did?" she asked unable to meet his sharp gaze.

There was a long pause.

A gut wrenchingly long pause.

"I did."

Her jaw tensed. She'd known he was a Death Eater, and she'd suspected that he'd done awful things. Worse things than snatching her, Ron, and Harry. But having it confirmed made her feel sick and, oddly, disappointed. Mostly she was frightened. Of him and the world she now lived in. She refused to ask him if he'd raped or murdered anyone, because if he said yes, she wasn't sure she'd be able to be anywhere near him. A large part of her just didn't want to know the answer. A first for Hermione Granger.

They sat for a while in silence. Scabior with his usual casual insolence, and Hermione stiff and ready to bolt if he made any move. As the minutes trickled away she gave herself a pep talk. Reasoning that Scabior couldn't hurt her or anyone else with his magic, and any wrong step he took would see him back in Azkaban before he could blink or offer one of his annoying smirks.

Also if he'd wanted something to happen to her, then he wouldn't have stopped Archie. Hermione had seen Scabior's face when he'd cast the sticking charm. He'd looked confused and surprised and a little bit angry.

She pulled in a breath. "Where are the Revels held?"

Scabior tapped his wand against his thigh, making the shadows shift wildly. "Never the same place."

Hermione shifted around so she was facing him. "Will we be able to find out where this one is being held?"

The Snatcher tipped his head back to look at the sky. "Maybe." He said, "It'll be dangerous, Beautiful, you and the Weasley brat aint got enough magic to damage 'em."

"Well, we weren't planning on taking on a roomful of Death Eaters," she said, making no attempt to deny how drained they were. He knew the truth so there was little point lying. "We just want Bella and Peter remember?"

Scabior snorted, "never forgetting that Kitten."

"But you will be able to find someone who knows where the Revel is being held?" She asked, aware that he hadn't really answered the question. Just evaded and tried to divert.

His teeth flashed in the dim light, "course, I will."

Hermione absently rubbed her aching thigh. "Do you know anything about this new Dark Lord?"

Scabior pushed himself into a sitting position, "not a thing, Pretty girl."

"You didn't hear anything in Azkaban?"

"Oh, I 'eard plenty. I 'eard the screams an the pleas, I 'eard the crack of bones snapping and the thump of fists hitting flesh," he spoke casually as if the words had no meaning to him, "And who could forget the hiss of curses hitting there mark. Yer don't ever forget hearing that."

Hermione closed her eyes in horror. Guilt filled her chest. She'd known torture was happening at Azkaban. She'd heard it herself only days before. But she'd been so caught up in hunting Bella an Peter that she hadn't even told Kingsley about it. Well she would. It would be the first thing she mentioned when she next saw the minister.

When she opened her eyes, Scabior had shifted again, this time so he was lying on his back, wand tucked into the waistband of his pants and arms folded beneath his head.

"Why did you throw that charm at Archie?" She said, then instantly wanted to take the words back.

The Snatcher's face had hardened and the muscle in his jaw began to tick. He was staring at the sky and very obviously not looking at her.

"Now why would yer want to know that Sweetness?"

"I don't!" Hermione said, trying to back track, "I just...wondered," she finished lamely.

A sharp smile crossed the Snatcher's face. It made him look mean and cruel. Someone you would cross the street to avoid.

"I need yer alive Pet, how else are yer gonna release me from me oath?"

"I will never release you from it!"

Scabior gave her that sharp smile in reply.

Hermione shook her head. She was to tired to argue with him and despite her intention not to take anything for her aching leg, it was still painful enough that she thought she might have to. Standing made it worse. The ache morphed into a throb that beat in time with her heart.

"Are you sleeping out here?" she said.

"No better place," he said.

Hermione was about to step away when his hand wrapped around her ankle.

"Yer could always join me, Dove."

"Like that will ever happen," she muttered tugging her foot free and heading back to the tent.

Scabior's dry chuckle followed her all the entire way.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Bella paced the floor of the Lestrange safe house impatiently. She hated waiting, it made her feel...twitchy. And Bella and twitchy were not a good combination. Neither was Bella and happy, or Bella and angry for that matter. But twitchy was the worst. She scowled at the door, willing it to open and belch that horrible Peter into the room. The stinking rat had been gone for hours and she was bored, bored, bored.

So bored that she was actually missing the hideous oink. Firing hexes at Pettigrew was almost as much fun as firing them at Mudbloods. And it was the only thing that had made the last four weeks of waiting bearable. That and her plans of revenge. Those had given her more pleasure than any man, other than the Dark Lord, ever had. Not once did she think it odd that she wanted Potter and his little followers to pay for the Dark Lord's death. Odd because it was in fact her actions that had allowed Potter to overcome Lord Voldemort. She was the one who'd given the Dark Lord the book containing the spell that told a wizard how to steal magic.

Given him it, knowing that attempting the spell would have killed him. She hadn't even seen him die. Bella almost felt sad at that, but the feeling was so fleeting that Bella often didn't realise it was there at all. Casting the spell had not only killed Lord Voldemort but also drained the magic of those surrounding him. Thus making defeating the Order much easier. Besides, now her loyalties would forever lie with the new Dark Lord.

Transferring her and Peter's magic had been his idea. He'd shown her how to perform the curse and provided two unregistered magic users for them to use. He'd even arranged for the Mudblood Granger girl to find the book that would tell her how Bella and Peter had tricked them into believing they had perished at Hogwarts.

A broken smile stretched her lips and she began to sway to music only she could hear. Her skirt billowed and her hair floated around her shoulders like black smoke. The door opening startled her into raising her wand. A stinging hex fell from her lips and she cackled as she saw Peter dive to the side to avoid being hit. The curse hit the door, leaving behind a black smudge. After four long weeks he was getting faster. Some days Bella didn't manage to hit him at all.

"Do you have it?" Bella said.

At her feet Peter was cowering, hands raised in front of his face, "I do, Mistress."

Bella stomped her foot. "Well give it to me then!"

"Of course, of course." Peter reached inside the pocket of his filthy cloak and withdrew a palm sized flask.

Bella snatched the dented flask from him and cuddled it to her chest as one would a child. "What did he say?"

Pettigrew struggled to his feet. "The Mudblood and George Weasley have left the Order and are hunting us."

Bella's face turned thunderous, "that dirty Mudblood dares to hunt me?" Her hand crept to the dagger on her waist as she spoke. "I'll carve every inch of her skin before I kill her and then I'll feed her to the wolves!"

Peter backed away from the dark haired witch and her volatile temper. "They have a Snatcher with them."

"Who!?"

"Scabior," Peter said.

Bella sneered, she remembered that arrogant leery Snatcher well, "then he'll be first to die." She pressed a kiss to the flask's cool metal surface, the action instantly calmed her. "What else did the Dark Lord say?"

Peter bowed his head, "that everything is going to plan. Minister Shacklebolt will soon lose what little support he has, and his position as head of the Ministry will become impossible to maintain. The seeds of mistrust are already being sown"

"And the rest of the Order?" Bella said, still caressing the flask.

"They will be busy tracking down Death Eaters as planned."

Bella nodded, "and what are your orders Peter?" She said rapidly losing interest in the rat. She had her potion now. After four weeks of waiting, she had it. Tonight she would sleep with it under her pillow.

Sensing her interest waning, Peter began to edge his way towards the staircase. He'd have to pass Bella to get there so he made sure to move nice and slow. "I am to keep the Mudblood, Snatcher and Weasley spawn occupied and away from the Order's Headquarters."

Bella pinned the retreating wizard in place with a sharp glare. "Do we know where the Headquarters are yet?"

"Alas, no," Peter said. He didn't dare move whilst the crazy witch was looking at him so directly.

Bella smiled. "Then I'll have to come up with a way to find out won't I?"

Peter inclined his head. He knew her moods well enough to know silence was often best when dealing with Bella. Right now her eyes were slowly losing their focus. He took a step and they sharpened on him again.

"If you have no further need for me Mistress," Peter said bowing low, but keeping an eye on her wand. Just in case.

A beat of silence.

"No. Go away. I don't want to see your face again tonight," Bella said.

Her dark eyes tracked him as he stumbled up the stairs and disappeared into the mess he called a bedroom. He wouldn't leave it until the morning now. It amused her that he thought a door would protect him from her. One day she would wait till he was sleeping and surprise him.

Bella sank to her knees, cradling the flask and the potion it contained to her cheek. Most of the time Bella lived with the constant murmur of voices whispering inside her head. Occasionally she blacked out altogether. Bad things happened when that occurred. But sometimes Bella had a moment of clarity, a moment that hit her right between the eyes and refused to budge.

It was just after the torture of Hermione Granger that she'd had such a moment. That was when she'd first come up with the plan. Well, part of it anyway. The new Dark Lord had refined it into what it was today. She was almost grateful to the Mudblood for providing such a gift.

When she thought about it, the Mudblood had actually given her two presents. The first of which was the memory of torturing the girl. That had been fun. It was almost as good as remembering when she'd killed that dog Sirius.

A soft smile graced her lips. Thinking of the night she'd become aquainted with Hermione Granger always made her feel calm. She closed her eyes in order to better recall the details.

It had been cold, icy cold as she met the Snatchers at the gates of Malfoy Manor. Scabior had pressed the swollen face of Harry Potter against the bars. She hadn't been sure it was him, despite the scar marring his forehead. So she'd brought them in for Draco to see. The snivelling fool had been less than useful. Bella had wanted to disown the coward there and then. They all knew it was Harry, fucking, Potter. Draco more than anyone.

But they'd needed to be sure. The Dark Lord's sanity had slipped enough that even Bella had begun to fear him. Had begun to realize that he wasn't fit to rule. She hadn't noticed the Mudblood. All of her attention had been fixed on Potter. That was until she'd noticed the sword of Gryffindor the nasty Snatcher held.

"Where did you get that?!" She'd yelled. The darkness starting to creep in on her.

The snatcher had pointed at the Mudblood. "The girl had it."

A black rage had overcome her at the thought of filthy Mudblood hands touching her sword. Not just touching, but stealing it. Stealing her property. Her memory blurred for a bit then. The anger burning through her too hard to contain, much less control. The next thing she knew, her hand was full of thick curls and she was breathing on the Mudblood's face. There was one Snatcher dead on the floor and the others, including that awful Scabior were gone.

Potter and Weasley were being manhandled from the room. The Malfoys were skulking in the corner, waiting, as they always did, for others to do the dirty work. Bella ignored them all. The Mudblood had struggled, managing to twist free and smack her across the face. Bella had howled, pointed her wand at the unarmed witch and sent the girl flying across the room. She landed with a thud and seconds later Bella was on top of her, wand digging into the soft skin of her throat.

"Try that again and I'll slice off your hands." Bella's voice had been thick with madness.

The Mudblood had started weeping then. Tossing her head from side to side and saying, "I don't know anything!" She said it twelve times. Bella had counted, getting angrier each second that passed.

A Crucio had shut her up.

It was when the girl was twisting and writhing under the curse that Bella had spotted the droplets of blood. A scattering of them decorating the Mudblood's jumper. When Bella had touched her chin, it had felt sticky and wet. A glance at her fingers showed them slick with blood. The Mudblood bitch had made her bleed.

Bella stopped using the Crucio then, tucked her wand away and brought out her dagger. It was one of two gifted to her by the Dark Lord. Naturally it was cursed. The blade able to split skin at the lightest touch. It was her second favourite weapon. The first being her wand.

She'd had to wait ten minutes for the Mudblood to stop twitching. Bella had watched her the entire time. Drinking in her pained moans.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" Bella had asked.

Hermione whimpered.

Bella had smiled and gently lowered herself on top of the quivering witch. "I'm going to use this dagger," Bella had placed the flat of the blade against a tear stained cheek, "and I'm going to carve what you are onto every inch of your skin."

Another whimper.

Bella had wanted to start somewhere relatively innocuous. The inside of her forearm. The face would be saved till last.

The screams as the blade cut flesh had almost deafened her. Sometimes she fell asleep to the sound. It was an odd lullaby, yet it never failed to send her to sleep with a smile on her face.

It had all been going so well. Mudblood already carved into the smooth skin of her arm and Bella ready to begin writing again. Only Potter and Weasley had shown up and then that blasted elf. One moment they were there and the next they were gone. She at least had the satisfaction of knowing her blade had killed the floppy eared traitor. One less elf to pollute the world.

Her rage had been all consuming and in truth she remembered very little about what happened after Potter had escaped.

When she came back to herself she was on the floor. Laying exactly where the Mudblood had been. The marble was still warm and slick from her sweat. She'd twisted her head to the side, and there, caught in the intricate design of her ring, hair. Long, curly, honey brown hair. Eight lovely, lovely, strands.

The Mudbloods second gift.

Bella blinked her way back to the present.

She was still holding the poly juice potion in her hand.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Two days had passed since the disastrous questioning of Archie. George was still recovering from his injuries, but they were getting better every day, and Hermione didn't think he'd have any lasting scars other than the ones in his head. The same couldn't be said for her. She now had a thin red scar that ran from mid thigh to knee. It was jagged and mean looking, and more suited to a pirate than a nineteen year old girl. It was lucky that she didn't care for short skirts.

They hadn't seen much of Scabior. The Snatcher didn't seem to like the confines of the tent, and spent most of his time out on the windswept moor. He was there now. Hermione could see him in the distance, a dark figure silhouetted against the slate grey sky. She sighed and tiredly made her way towards him. Kingsley had arranged to meet with her tomorrow, so she wanted to at least be able to tell him where the next Revel would be held.

To be fair, the Snatcher had wanted to poke around Knockturn Alley the night before. Apparently there was a tavern with a back room, where all the Death Eaters met to discuss secret Death Eater stuff. But Hermione hadn't been up to it. She still wasn't, truth be told, but she couldn't put it off any longer. At least the extra time had given her time to contact Harry. Only an hour ago, Pig had delivered the invisibility cloak she'd asked to borrow.

This time she wasn't taking any chances. And she wasn't taking George. If all went as she planned, then she wouldn't have to come into contact with any Death Eaters at all.

She was halfway to Scabior when he turned and started walking towards her. They met somewhere in the middle. Hermione shuffled, unsure how to deal with this silent Scabior. He was usually the one who started their conversations.

"Umm...Hello," she said.

Scabior bobbed his head once in acknowledgement but didn't reply. Hermione scowled. He was being difficult on purpose. It showed in his insolent posture and patronising expression. She crossed her arms, holding onto her temper by the barest thread. She fixed her gaze on his green waistcoat. It was luxurious velvet with shiny brass military buttons, and shouldn't have matched his rough character at all. But like the pink scarf that circled his neck, he somehow made it work.

"We'll go to Knockturn Alley tonight," she firmly stated.

A reminder to them both of who was in charge.

"Not sure I'm free tonight, Petal."

Hermione's lips folded in annoyance, "I assure you that you are."

Scabior smirked, dropping his eyes to examine his nails, "and what will yer give me for rearranging my schedule at such short notice."

"How about another night of freedom?" Hermione said, eyes narrowed on the Snatcher.

Scabior took a menacing step towards her, his earlier amusement gone in the blink of an eye, face wiped clean of emotion."Careful, Beautiful, yer don't want me to lose my temper."

"No," Hermione said. "I want you to go to Knockturn Alley with me." Her voice was firm.

For the space of a second Scabior regarded her, perhaps gauging what he could get away with, and whether is was worth the effort. "Very well Pretty," Scabior finally agreed, "Tonight we will hunt."

Hermione scoffed. Like he had a choice. She wanted to feel satisfied. She really did. But how could she, when it meant she would be putting herself in danger. Again. But at least this time she was somewhat happier with the plan. Well, sort of.

"What time does this tavern open?" She said, breathing in the still air.

He shrugged, "Nine? Ten?"

"We'll leave at eight then," she stated, mentally calculating whether that would give them enough time. It would have to.

"Won't be any Death Eaters there then, Pet," Scabior said, brushing a hand through his messy hair, and only succeeding in making it worse.

"That's the idea." At his raised eyebrow she elaborated. "We both know my magic isn't strong enough to take on a Death Eater, so I'm not going to try." A sly grin tugged up her lips, "We're going to plant a listening device in this secret room you spoke of, and then we're going to hide and hope that they let slip the location of the Revel."

Scabior looked slightly incredulous, "yer want us to hide, and eavesdrop like naughty children?"

"Like you haven't done it before," Hermione said amused by his expression.

"Now, now Sweet. I won't be sharing my snatching secrets with you," Scabior said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Do you think it will work?" She asked nibbling her lip as the Snatcher considered her plan.

He tipped his head. "Can't use a disillusionment to hide, they'll sense that."

"It isn't a disillusionment charm, it's something else. We won't even be in the building," she added.

The Snatcher looked her in the eye, "then it might work." His look turned speculative, "don't see why yer need me then Dove."

Hermione smile sweetly. "I don't need you." She looked pointedly at the arm that hid his wand, "I need your magic."

Scabior looked amused by her words. The expression didn't soften his face, as it would anyone else, but sharpened and defined it into one of cruel mockery. "Any spells I throw now will do fuck all but entertain, Sweetness."

Hermione huffed out a breath. "I don't want you to fight! I want you to apparate."

"I see." Scabior allowed his eyes to travel down the length of her body in one slow suggestive appraisal. "Yer like it when I hold yer close do yer, Treasure?"

Hermione's stomach flipped. "Don't be absurd," she turned her face, so he wouldn't see the blush staining her cheeks.

Scabior chuckled. A dry throaty sound that rumbled up form the depths of his chest to float on the air.

Irritated by the Snatcher and his insufferable attitude, Hermione stomped her way back to the tent. She needed to apply some more cream to George's chest, and she wanted to slip him a sleeping potion before they left. And she was absolutely not going to think about why the thought of Scabior holding her close made her stomach flip. She didn't like him like that after all. She was determined not to.

They left George sleeping an hour later. Hermione had given him the sleeping potion before she'd let him know that he wouldn't be going with them. He'd argued. A lot. Hermione had reasoned. Also a lot. Telling him that they couldn't all fit under the invisibility cloak. Which was a half truth. They'd only managed at Hogwarts because Harry and her were not very tall. Ron had always sort of loomed over them, and even then sometimes she'd suspected their feet had peeked out.

Scabior had been horribly unhelpful. Making sure to mention, several times, how dangerous it was going to be. He'd succeeded in whipping George up into a famous Weasley tantrum. In the end, Hermione's own temper had snapped clean in two. She'd sent Scabior outside to wait for her, which he'd been happy to do, now that he'd caused his trouble. Then she'd yelled her throat raw shouting and arguing with George until he'd passed out.

Next, she had done something that left the sour taste of guilt in her mouth. She had taken George's wand from beneath his pillow and hidden it. She was more than sure that they'd return before he woke, but she didn't want to risk him waking and doing something silly, like following them. If he tried to apparate on his own right now, he'd likely splinch himself in two. Then Molly Weasley would have yet another reason to dislike her.

Now she stood beside Scabior, waiting for him to apparate them to Knockturn Alley. She was wearing one of Ginny's old robes, a dark smoky grey that blended well with the shadows. She'd also managed to talk Scabior into transfiguring his coat so that it brushed his ankles instead of the back of his knees. He'd refused to change the colour of his pants, but the coat was now long enough that it covered the gaudy pattern from view.

The pair of the wouldn't hold up to a close inspection, but from a distance no-one would guess who they were. At least she hoped they wouldn't.

"Well, c'mere then Beautiful," Scabior said holding out his hand in a gentlemanly manner.

Hermione's stomach did that treacherous little flip again. She hesitated, confused by her body's reaction. The snatcher waited, hand out and face knowing. Hermione was not fooled by his false civility one bit. After a moment she stepped forward, not taking his hand, but wrapping her fingers around his forearm instead. Scabior tutted his disapproval, but didn't try to wrap his arms around her as she'd expected. They apparated away and landed seconds later in a dingy backstreet that smelt of piss.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Where are we?" She said.

Scabior pressed a finger to her lips, mashing them against her teeth. Hermione was about to protest, when she noticed that he wasn't even looking at her. His head was turned towards the entrance of the street. She followed his eyes but didn't see anyone or anything but dancing shadows. She could hear voices, but they sounded distant enough that she didn't think they'd be a problem. Twisting back to the Snatcher she noted that he hadn't moved. Not even to remove his finger. It was rough against her soft skin. His profile looked set in stone and his eyes were unfocused. Fixed on something that was beyond her vision.

Finally he relaxed, dropping his hand and easing back into his usual casual indifference.

"Next alley over. Half way down." Scabior drawled as if he hadn't just resembled a stalking cat.

Hemione nodded, wondering if she should take out the invisibility cloak and use it now, "is it safe to move?"

"I reckon we can risk it, Kitten."

Hermione chewed her lip as she followed Scabior to the top of the street. Every step she took felt heavy and clumsy. "Wait!" She whispered, "give me your arm!"

The Snatcher halted, a mocking glint flashing in his eyes. He didn't offer her his arm.

The witch scowled, "if you don't have my arm, then you _might_ apparate without me."

Scabior pressed a fine boned hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Wouldn't dream of it, Angel."

"Of course you wouldn't," She said. Her voice was so dry it could have soaked up a lake.

Without waiting for him to offer, Hermione took the small step that would place her next to him, and looped her arm around his. This time her stomach remained firmly in place.

"Shall we?" She said, relived that whatever nonsense had caused the flipping was now gone.

Scabior inclined his head and tugged her out and onto the street. Hermione immediately ducked her head, focusing on the cobbled street below. She could see little but their booted feet, but that was fine by her. Her heart beat harder with every step they took, convinced that they were about to be discovered.

"Relax Beautiful," Scabior said. His breath tickled her ear and his hand brushed her fingers where they clenched on the material of his coat.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." she muttered, loosening her fingers from their death grip.

"We're just two lovers, takin' a stroll." He bent low to nuzzle the side of her face.

Hermione stiffened as her stomach twisted yet again. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ She lifted her hand to push him away, only noticing at the last second the footsteps coming towards them. For a moment her hand hovered, mid air and undecided, and then she let it reach up to cradle the side of his head, covering the red streak. An effort to conceal them from whoever was approaching.

She felt his lips curl into a smile against her cheek. "Yer been wantin' to do that for a while Pretty?" Scabior murmured. His lips moved on her skin as he spoke, and it felt like an odd word kiss.

Hermione's dug her nails into his scalp, not just in reply, but because she wanted him to stop his fake flirting. She didn't like the way it made her feel.

As soon as the footsteps faded she pulled away from him, keeping only her hand looped over his forearm. She risked lifting her head to look around, determined to ignore her bizarre reaction to him. There were a couple of people in the distance, but nobody close enough to worry about. Knockturn Alley had yet to wake up. When she glanced at Scabior, he met her eyes and jabbed his chin at a narrow opening a few feet away.

Hermione nodded and began to head the direction he'd indicated. They didn't hesitate as they entered the shadowed alley. It was narrow and long, and if she were to stretch out her arms they would touch the walls on either side. She moved, allowing Scabior to take the lead.

The Snatcher walked through the darkness as confidently as someone who was used to spending time within its depths. Hermione's heart was still thudding as she followed him and her back felt slick with sweat. This was starting to feel less safe than the whole Archie disaster had been. Maybe she should have let George come with them. At least she could trust him.

Scabior suddenly stopped. It was so unexpected that she walked right into his back.

"Careful Kitten," Scabior said. His voice was distracted and he had that unfocused look about him again.

Hermione took the opportunity whilst he was distracted to look around. Not that she could see much, it was too dark for that. But some of the buildings had windows that looked out onto the alley, and the light they cast was enough to see a few details.

Scabior tapped her nose, and then used the same finger to point at a shabby wooden door. "That's it."

Hermione studied the flimsy looking door. It looked like a breath of air would knock it over. "Is it warded?"

Scabior shrugged.

"Well check it!" Hermione hissed.

"Check it yerself Pet," Scabior said leaning back against the wall. "I aint yer slave."

Hermione gave him a dirty look. And just like that, any weird feelings she'd had disappeared, all it had taken was his true nature to show its face.

He knew she didn't want to use magic. That was why she'd brought him along. Not just so he could show her where the place was. But, so he could apparate and unward any doors they might come across. Seeing no other option, Hermione pulled out her wand and lightly waved it up and down the surface of the door. She felt the ward straight away. It was way stronger that she'd anticipated and keyed to only let authorised persons through. It also had several anti-tampering charms woven within.

Hermione could disable it, but it would take time and magic. Neither of which she had to spare.

"Scabior?" Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Yes Pretty?"

Hermione glared at him. "Would you please break through the ward."

"Course Duck, just as soon as yer release me from our oath." The Snatcher tucked his hands into his pocket.

"You know I won't do that." Hermione rubbed her face tiredly. "Are you asking for the impossible because you know I wont agree?" She switched her attention to the door, "and if I won't agree, then you won't be forced to attempt to unward a door that is clearly beyond your skill." Hermione gave him a patronising smile, "you should have just said you couldn't do it."

Scabior flashed her a feral grin, "Oh, Beautiful, I'm skilled at all kinds of stuff," his eyes dropped to her lips, "yer let me know when yer ready to learn."

Hermione crossed her arms determined to ignore eager leap her stomach gave, and the heat creeping up her neck. "I'd be willing to remove the tracking device, after we get what we want."

Scabior flicked the fringe of the pink silk. "Done."

Hermione let loose the breath she'd been holding. Taking off the scarf would be a small thing compared to finding out the location of the Revel. And at this moment Hermione would be perfectly happy if he left and took his suggestive comments with him.

Whilst he was fiddling with the ward, Hermione took out the invisibility cloak and flipped it around her shoulders. Nobody had entered the alley but she angled herself so that anyone who happened to glance their way wouldn't see anything.

Scabior looked different when he was concentrating. Less sly and more civilized. He broke through the wards quicker than Hermione anticipated. It was on the tip of her tongue to praise him, but the arrogant smirk gracing his lips jammed the words in her throat. Yet another reason to dislike him. He smirked way too much.

"Where's the location of the room?" she said.

Scabior was eyeing the invisibility cloak, "end of the corridor, top of the stairs, third door on yer right." The Snatcher reached forward to pinch the material between his thumb and finger. He had a greedy look on his face that put Hermione on edge. As soon as she'd finished with it, she was sending it back to Harry. He would never forgive her if she allowed Scabior to steal it.

She pulled the cloak from his fingers. "I'll go inside and plant the bug."

"Bug?" Scabior looked puzzled.

"It's a muggle listening device, once I hide it in the room, we'll be able to hear what they're saying from out here." Hermione held our her hand palm up, "give me your wand."

"No."

"I'm not leaving you down here with your wand, merlin knows what you'll get up to," she said trying not too sound bossy.

And sounding bossy. But that was okay. It felt familiar.

Scabior shrugged. "Then don't leave me."

Hermione's teeth clenched at the thought of them pressed together under the cloak. She couldn't do it. She didn't _want_ to do it.

"Tick, tock, Angel."

Merlin he was annoying. "Fine!" She muttered.

Reaching for the door she inched it open enough to peep through. The corridor was empty. "It's clear," she squeezed through the gap. A hand on her arm stopped her from going any further.

"Yer gonna share the cloak, Sweetness?"

Hermione yanked her arm free, "we don't need to, not unless we see someone."

"I'd rather not take the chance, Pet."

Hermione slumped, defeated. He was right. It wasn't worth the risk. Yet it didn't make the thought of sharing a cloak with him any easier. Reluctantly she rearranged the cloak so a section of it covered his shoulder and half of his back.

"'Ermione." Scabior chided quite seriously.

Hermione's hand stilled against the door she was about to push open. Scabior so rarely used her name and she'd never heard him sound so serious before, it caused her attention to sharpen on him. He was right. Again. This wasn't a game, and avoiding touching him because his stupid flirting made her stomach twist would get them both killed.

She took a breath, "maybe if you stand behind me?"

With Harry and Ron, she'd always been next to Harry. Although it didn't really matter where they were, as long as they were both concealed. Surprisingly Scabior wasn't a prat as he arranged himself behind her. In fact, he barely touched her as they tiptoed along the corridor. She'd never been so grateful in her life. They kept close to the plaster cracked wall and avoided the middle of the floor, where the floorboards sagged and looked likely to creak.

The stairs were more of a problem. Scabior had to place his hands on either side of her waist and his chest touched her back with each step up. Still, Hermione didn't think he was trying to take advantage. His body was too tense and she thought that if she were to look over her shoulder at him, his face would show that unfocused expression. She was coming to think of it as his Snatcher face. Clearly a working Scabior, took his work very seriously.

They reached the top to the stairs without incident. Although they could hear people moving about and talking nearer the front of the building, they saw no-one. It was when they were passing the second door that Scabior froze. A second later he pushed into Hermione, pressing her into the wall. He was so tight against her that she could feel his belt buckle and the buttons on his waistcoat pressing into her spine. His breath puffed against the skin of her neck, raising goosebumps. Her body was ablaze with confusion and desire and heat. Her heart galloped in her chest and her skin prickled where he touched.

She was seconds away from arching into him when the second door opened. Her heart stuttered in the cage of her chest. She didn't dare move. Not even her eyes, which remained fixed and unblinking on the blurry third door. The unseen person muttered and stumbled down the hall and away from them. Hermione had never been so grateful for such an interruption before in her life.

 _What on earth a had she been thinking?_

Shame filled her. To become distracted at such at time was unforgivable. And over Scabior!

"Breathe," he whispered into her ear.

Realising she wasn't, Hermione gasped in a hot breath and sagged against the wall. She allowed herself five seconds to pull her tattered self together, and then asked Scabior. "is it safe?"

"For now."

Hermione pushed herself and Scabior away from the wall and rushed quickly over to the third door. She wanted this over with. And she was never leaving George behind again.

"Is it warded?" She whispered.

Scabior lifted the wand, Hermione hadn't even realise he'd palmed and checked the door. "No."

She turned the handle, pushed it open and entered. She looked around as she scooted from under the cloak. The room had very little furniture. Two chairs, a table and a heavily stained rug. Hermione pulled out the fingernail sized bug from her pocket, and picked the backing off the double sided sticky tape she'd placed on the back. Dropping to her knees beside the table, she flicked the tiny switch to the on position and bent low to stick it to the underside of the warped wood.

"Quickly now, Sweet." Scabior said from his place beside the door.

Hermione pressed the bug once more, firmly, and then jumped to her feet and strode back to the Snatcher. He manoeuvred her in front of him and then flicked the cloak back over them.

They moved faster on the way back. Adrenalin fuelling them. Taking more chances, but trusting the invisibility cloak to keep them hidden. It was only when they were back in the alley that Hermione was able to take a breath without shuddering. Neither of them made any move to leave the safety of the cloak. Knockturn Alley was waking up. And the relative empty streets from earlier were now filling up.

"Here." Hermione handed Scabior some ear buds.

The snatcher took them gingerly in his hand, Hermione noted with amusement. She checked her pocket for the transmitter, plugged in the earphones and placed one of the buds into her ear. She offered the other to Scabior. He was still behind her, she could feel the heat of him, but she ignored it. Whatever foolishness had happened before would not be repeated. Hermione was not attracted to the Snatcher. It was impossible.

"Put it in your ear. When somebody enters the room you'll hear them as if they were stood next to you." She told him, all business.

He didn't lift it to his ear.

Hermione nudged his stomach with her elbow, "you're not afraid are you?"

Scabior puffed out a breath. "Never, Treasure." He said placing the ear bud into his own ear.

Hermione moved so she stood next to him, lifted the cloak off the ground and slid down the wall until she sat on the cold floor. Scabior did the same.

They waited side by side for the secret room to be used.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

An hour passed in near silence. Both in the secret room and in the alley below. They no longer had the invisibility cloak covering their heads. It had grown too hot, and the sticky heat had made the wait unbearably uncomfortable. So they both sat, propped against the wall, the invisibility cloak pooled in their laps. Anyone who happened to glance their way would see two torsos floating above the ground.

Scabior was bored but unwilling to converse with the witch beside him. He was on edge and would continue to be so until they returned to the tent. He'd checked the alley earlier and and discovered an anti apparation ward in place. He hadn't told the witch about that, figuring her tension would add to his and send him over the edge. Knowing there was no quick escape and any magic he threw would do little harm, he felt trapped. The walls were closing in on him with every passing second. Beside him, Hermione shifted, her elbow brushing his arm. She stiffened and pulled away at the contact.

The Snatcher cast her a knowing glance. She flushed red under his gaze and began to fiddle with the toggle on her jacket. His presence was making her nervous. Scabior knew that now, and he knew why. He saw how his words would sometimes make her eyes dilate and the breath catch in her throat.

Yes. Hermione Granger had every reason to be nervous of him. Knowing he could affect the witch had suddenly made this hunt a whole lot more interesting. Perhaps he'd make her pay in a different way now. A more pleasurable way for the both of them.

Just for fun he let his thigh brush hers. A gentle barely there touch. The breath caught in her throat and she inched away. Not enough to be obvious, but more than enough to amuse the Snatcher and confirm his suspicions. Later, he would play with her, but now was simply too dangerous. The alley and surrounding streets were crawling with wizards and witches of a more questionable reputation.

Even though most of them weren't actually Death Eaters, they still had rotten cores. Rotten enough that they would find a way to exploit Hermione and Scabior the first chance they got. Anything from selling them to the wolves for meat, to binding them into slavery.

The little Dove beside him had no idea how dangerous it was for them to be sitting in this alley. Unable to apparate, their only defence would be his tickling hex and Hermione's depleted magic. Which he doubted would hold anyone off for more than a few minutes. Not nearly enough time to escape. Though he supposed he could make a run for it and leave her behind if the shit hit the fan.

He twisted his head in irritation. The muggle ear thing was annoying him. It was hard and strange in his ear, and it felt like it was about to fall out at any moment. He didn't like it. Hermione didn't seem bothered by hers, but then again as a muggle she wouldn't be. He had to admit, if only to himself, that using the 'bug' was a good idea. Not a single wizard would ever suspect such a thing. Or even have heard of one.

He regarded her from beneath his lashes and thought about how different she was than he'd expected her to be. The rumours he'd heard painted her as a bookish plain Jane. He'd known the truth the moment he'd caught her in the woods and learned her scent. She might enjoy her books but she also had a ruthless streak that he found to be utterly charming. Her humour matched his own. And at the oddest moments she could be surprisingly kind. Even to him, who deserved it less than anyone after what he'd done to her and her friends.

Right now her leg was jiggling up and down in an annoying dance that was rapidly getting on Scabior's nerves. Mostly because he couldn't actually see it. The invisibility cloak concealed it from view. But he could _feel_ it moving, a light tug of the material draped over their laps every time it bobbed.

The Snatcher in him wanted to snap at her to stop moving. To tell her that silence and stillness were the most important Snatcher rules. They kept you hidden from prying eyes, and hidden in his work often meant alive. Finally unable to ignore it any longer, he reached across to curl his hand around her slim thigh. It instantly stilled beneath him.

"That's better Dove," he murmured removing his hand with some reluctance. He liked unnerving her.

"Ah...sorry," Hermione said.

Scabior grinned at the slight hitch her voice held. It stretched further when she swayed away from him. Bless her for thinking she could escape him. Soon he would teach her how impossible that was going to be. He studied her covertly from the corner of his eye. She was fidgeting again.

A sudden noise in his ear had his back snapping straight. He automatically reached for his wand as he looked around. His other hand leapt to the side to grasp Hermione's wrist, ready to run with her to the nearest Apparition point. Or use her as a diversion so he could escape.

"Don't!" her urgent whisper reached his ear, "It's someone entering the room in the tavern."

Scabior eased back against the wall. He didn't re-sheath his wand, nor did he release her wrist. Indeed, he held it more securely, aligning his thumb with the frantic beat of her pulse.

A man's voice sounded in his ear. Rough and echoey. He didn't like it. It didn't sound real.

"What do you want to speak about?"

A second voice, more nasal and pitched higher, "I would like for you to acquire something for me."

Scabior did not recognise either voice. When he looked at Hermione, the witch had her eyes closed, her brow was furrowed and she was nibbling on her lip in concentration.

"What?" The first voice.

"A book on summoning."

"When do you need it by."

"The Revel."

Next to him, Hermione shook off his hand and lifted her own to her ear where she cupped it. He assumed so she could better hear what was being said.

A pause, and then, "you're going then?"

"Not much choice."

The room was silent, maybe so they could take a drink, or contemplate what the consequences of refusing to attend the Revel would be.

Not pleasant, if Scabior had to guess. Nothing was ever pleasant where dark magic was involved. He pulled the muggle listening device from his ear and flicked it to Hermione. He had no desire to hear what the two men were saying. He didn't trust words spoken without eye contact. And no doubt the lovely Miss Granger would let him know the details later anyway.

Scabior tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Something about this whole thing felt wrong. His gut was rippling with unease, and his instinct was telling him to back away. It had never led him wrong before. Not at Hogwarts and not on the numerous hunts he'd undertaken. He opened his eyes to look at the witch beside him. Her brow was still furrowed and she was pulling her lip between her teeth. Those fire whiskey eyes were hidden beneath her lids.

He was tracing the curve of her cheek when quite suddenly her eyes popped open, and a fierce smile stretched her lips. She met his gaze and nodded. Once, sharply.

They had it then. The location of the Revel. Yet Scabior still couldn't shake that feeling of unease. That voice in his head that whispered; too easy, too fast. And it was. They came to this alley, once, and listened to the conversation in the back room and the two speaking just happened to mention the Revel.

It stank of rot and deception to Scabior. The question was, did he share his concern with Hermione? And would she listen? He had no evidence but his instinct.

Beside him she was tucking away her muggle contraption and gathering up the invisibility cloak. The Snatcher stood, watching her covertly as she folded it over her arm. Before the hunt was over, it would be his.

He glanced down the alley as she looked up at him, pretending indifference and hiding his greedy gaze.

"Should we use the cloak to get back to the apparation point?" She asked.

Scabior took one look at the now crowded street and shook his head. "Too many people, Dove."

Hermione tucked the cloak under her jacket and out of view. "So we just walk out? In full view of everyone?" She sounded nervous.

"No better way, Pet," Scabior said.

"We could just apparate from here."

The Snatcher cocked his head, "and trigger the wards?" He watched her look around uncertainly. "Let the nasty Death Eaters know we've been 'ere snoopin'."

"What wards?" She asked her eyes dark with accusation.

"The anti Apparation wards, Lovely girl," he said.

Her eyes widened comically. "You let us sit here with no way to escape?"

Scabior shrugged.

"You're mad," she muttered, glancing around to make sure nobody was creeping up on them.

"Yer needed the information and now yer got it."

The hesitation left her face and she took the steps needed to join him. Scabior grinned and reached forward to take her hand, carefully folding it over his arm. He kept his eyes on hers the entire time, "Yer gonna share the location of the Revel, Pretty?"

Hermione's agitated expression cleared. "Swinside stone circle."

Scabior grunted. He'd attended a Revel there several years ago. A raucous affair that he recalled being particularly lively. Nine muggles had died. A dozen tortured, and five raped. Scabior had not participated, instead opting to slowly drown himself in fire whiskey and shoot hexes at his fellow Snatchers.

He returned to the present to find Hermione watching him with a perceptive gaze. He grinned and stroked his finger over the back of her hand in order to divert her attention. It worked. The witch dropped her eyes to watch his fingers caress her hand.

"Yer ready Precious?"

Her startled gaze rose to his. "What?"

Scabior jabbed his chin in the direction of the street, "To leave."

"Yes. Of course." Hermione said, "We should hurry."

"As yer wish, Princess," the Snatcher mocked.

They made their way to the alley's entrance. Hermione slowing as they neared, but Scabior ignored her reluctance, and tugged her seamlessly into the street. He ducked and twisted his head so that his nose nuzzled the top of her head, and each inhale filled his lungs with her delicious scent. It would conceal him a little from prying eyes, but only just. He wasn't too worried though. Sometimes the best way to stay hidden was to remain in plain sight.

He could feel Hermione trembling next to him. Her body vibrating against his as she shook. Not that he could blame her. The people around them would very much like to spend some one on one time with one of the Golden Trio. He didn't actually think she, or any of the Order knew how many supporters the Dark Lord had boasted. Most had been, and would remain, shadows in the dark. Ready to emerge when the time was right.

He manoeuvred them towards the Apparation point, evading the people they passed effortlessly. He never once spoke to the witch beside him. All of his attention centred on the people they passed. Letting his Snatcher sense alert him to anyone who took more than a passing interest.

The crowd thinned out as they neared their destination. Enough, that Scabior lifted his head and shortened his stride ever so slightly. Hermione stumbled at the sudden change of pace. Scabior flashed his feral smile and wrapped his arm around her waist. He felt her snap taut and saw her mouth open. No doubt to reprimand him.

"Ah, ah, Sweet," he dug his fingers into her waist in warning, "let's not draw attention to ourselves." He pulled her into the alley, leaving the street behind.

There were two people ahead of them, queuing to use the apparation point. The first, a witch, apparated before he could even study her properly. The second was an elderly wizard, stooped low and unsteady, not with age but a belly full of drink. Scabior knew this wizard. He was called Gaufrid Entwhistle and he was a cantankerous sod with a penchant for under age witches. He was also a surprisingly good duellist, even when drunk enough to kill a normal man. That wouldn't stop him from recognising Scabior and more than likely Hermione as well.

Gaufrid was staggering towards the apparation point. Rather than get tooo close, Scabior backed Hermione into the wall before easing himself against her.

"What are you doing?"She hissed.

Scabior brushed his nose along the edge of her jaw, "yer don't want the likes of him recognising us, Love."

Hermione shuddered and made a half hearted effort to push him off her. The Snatcher remained pinned against her, lightly caressing her neck with his lips. The witch twisted her head, blocking her neck from him. He inched away to look at her. She was peeking down the alley, her brow furrowed.

Scabior sighed. "What yer fretting over, Pet?"

"Should we stop him from apparating?"

The Snatcher flicked his gaze towards Gaufrid. "Whatever for?"

"He's too drunk, he might really hurt himself," she said.

As if to prove that he was indeed too drunk, Gaufrid bent over and threw up with a wet splat. Hermione's look of disgust was priceless and one he would have enjoyed more if he hadn't been feeling mildly insulted. Here he was, pressed against the length of her and she seemed completely unconcerned. Or at least pretending to be. As a test, he slid his pelvis against hers and allowed his breath to fan her cheek.

Her breathing stuttered and her eyes fluttered closed. She didn't push him away. He grinned. Not quite so unconcerned then.

"Let 'im take his chances, Love," he whispered.

Hermione opened her eyes and met his gaze straight on. They stared at each other for an endless moment, before he eased slowly forward until his lips were an inch from hers. Their breath mingled and he could feel her body become soft and pliant. It wasn't Scabior who closed the distance between them, but Hermione. Her soft lips pressed against his. A tentative touch that could hardly be called a kiss at all.

Scabior would soon change that. He moved his hands from the wall and onto her, the first he fisted in her hair, pulling until her head tilted back. The second he placed on the delicate skin of her throat, his thumb covering her rapidly beating pulse. They continued to look at each other the entire time. He lowered his mouth, letting his lips trail across hers, before lightly brushing his tongue against the soft flesh. Hermione moaned and opened her mouth. It was all the invitation he needed.

He kissed her. Hard and fast, barely giving her time to catch her breath. His tongue explored her taste and texture. Peach and velvet and addictive. His lips forced her mouth wider, wanting more, needing more. She was making little mewling noises that went straight to his groin. Heat pooled in his pelvis and his dick began to firm with each passing second. He ground it against her. Her delicate hands had circled his neck and she used them to pull him closer.

The crack of apparation sounded. Loud and jarring. Hermione froze and Scabior knew that the moment had passed. He sighed and eased away from her, licking the last of her taste from his lips. She was very carefully not looking at him, regret lining every inch of her body. He scowled. She could pretend all she liked, but she'd enjoyed that. Just as much as he had.

"Um...we should probably go," she said still unable to look at him.

Scabior snorted, "I reckon yer right, Treasure."

They made their way to the apparation point in silence. When they got there, Hermione reached out and took a hold of his arm. Touching him only the barest amount. Her eyes remained downcast. Scabior rolled his own and dragged her close to him. He apparated them instantly.

When they landed he let her go. Casually dropping his arms from her. She stumbled away from him, almost tripping on a rock in her haste. He couldn't contain his grin when she ran her hand down her clothes like a prim and proper lady.

She cleared her throat, "I think it's best if we pretend that..." She waved her hand around, "what ever that was, didn't happen."

"If that's what yer want, Pet."

Hermione nodded her head enthusiastically. "It is. Absolutely."

He might even have believed her if she'd been able to look him in the eye. But she couldn't so he knew she was lying, both to herself and him. He wondered if her lips still tingled like his did. As he watched, she folded them together, and a soft blush coloured her cheeks. Yep. She was feeling it.

Scabior grinned.

Next time he would make more than her lips tingle.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The Ministry of Magic was teeming with activity when Hermione arrived the next morning. Ministers, Aurors, and staff members, were rushing about with an air of self-importance that Hermione found laughable. Not one of them had any clue how to fix the mess the wizarding world had become. They were simply trying to stick a giant bandage over the whole nightmare, in the hopes that it would go away. If they'd asked, she could've told them that it wouldn't work. That it would never work. But they would only look at her with mild distaste, and tell her that a muggleborn would never truly understand the magical world and its politics.

Hermione sighed and weaved her way past swishing robes and muttered conversation. She was alone, having left both Scabior and George back at the tent to fend for themselves. She was more than grateful for that. She had no wish to be anywhere near the Snatcher. Not after the kiss.

Or, as she was now calling it: The Mistake.

And it was. A huge, stupid, awful mistake. One she didn't have any excuse for. Not like with Ron. Where the euphoria of destroying the Horcrux had overcome them, and resulted in a reckless kiss. All she'd felt during that wet press of lips was relief mixed with regret. Relief, because they'd just destroyed a part of Voldemort's soul. And regret, because she hadn't _felt_ anything but soft skin. She could honestly have been snogging her own arm. That feeling of regret had only increased when she'd seen Ron's wide-eyed look of awe. She'd known instantly that he'd felt something that she never would.

That was until last night, and The Mistake. Hermione had definitely felt something when she'd kissed Scabior. A restless, needy something that she didn't have a word for. That feeling had only increased when he'd taken control and showed her what a skilled kiss could make you feel. And that's why it was a mistake. That feeling. It was dangerous and had trouble stamped all over it. Hermione Granger could not fall for a Death Eater.

Her plan now was to pretend that it hadn't happened. Not that it would be easy. What with the knowing smirk Scabior had been sending her way all morning. But that was exactly what she was going to do. Ignore it. Deny it. And never, EVER, let it happen again.

The churning thoughts circling her brain, quietened down, and she was able to breath a little easier. At last she was able to focus on her meeting with Kingsley and not the Mistake. She made her way to a flight of stairs and began to climb. She was halfway up when she first noticed the tension filling the air. She slowed, catching snippets of the conversations going on around her.

"...it's only a matter of time before he's gone..."

"...need someone new..."

"...can't trust his decisions..."

"...heard the rumours about..."

"Look it's Harry Potter's friend."

Hermione's startled gaze rose to meet the eyes of the female Auror who'd spoken. She didn't look much older than her, maybe two, three years. She had pale blonde hair and sea blue eyes. Next to her stood another Auror, the same age, but this time male. He, too, had blonde hair, but darker, more wheat coloured, and his eyes were a muddy brown. Hermione didn't recognise either of them from Hogwarts.

She offered a shy smile.

They returned it with a sneer.

And she returned that with her back.

Things never changed. She sighed and resumed her walk to Kingsley's office. This time she ignored the people around her. Instead, she counted her steps. It took five hundred and seventy four to get there.

Tabitha Burlap, Kingsley's secretary, was sitting behind a tiny wooden desk. As soon as she spotted Hermione, she leapt to her feet and ran towards her.

"Hello! I'm so pleased to see you again!"

Hermione smiled politely, "it's good to see you too, Mrs Burlap." She held out her hand for the older witch to shake.

Burlap grabbed a hold and used it to pull Hermione into an unexpected hug instead. Hermione blinked and awkwardly patted the petite witche's back, whilst trying not to breathe in the cloyingly sweet smell of her perfume. For some reason she reminded Hermione of Dolores Umbridge. Not that she wore pink or was fond of cats or anything, but there was just something about her. Like she was too eager to please.

Hermione pulled away, "Minister Shacklebolt is expecting me." She gently nudged Burlap back towards her desk.

"Of course!" She rushed to the Minister's door and entered without knocking.

Seconds later she reappeared. "He'll see you now, Dear."

Hermione nodded and made her way over to the Minister's office. She passed Burlap, who remained by the door and entered Kingsley's cluttered workspace. She was again drawn into another hug, this one more welcome, before perching herself on a wobbly chair.

"Thank you Tabitha," Kingsley said, taking his seat. "If you wouldn't mind closing the door?" He waited until the door swung shut before switching his attention back to Hermione, "are things going to plan?"

The witch nodded, "yes. I know the location of the Revel. Swinside circle. The Lake District. And one of the Death Eaters wanted a book on summoning"

"You think they plan to try and bring back Voldemort?"

Hermione eased forward, making the chair lift and almost tipping her onto the floor, "I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter even if they try. They won't be able to bring him back. His soul is gone, his body is gone, _he's_ gone."

Kingsley frowned and folded his hands, "I agree, can the information you heard be trusted?"

She hesitated, "I wouldn't fully trust any words that fall from a Death Eater's mouth. But I'm honestly not sure we'll have much choice."

The Minister swiped a hand across his face. "I'm afraid you may be right." His hand dropped to the desk, "I'll inform the Order and we'll go from there."

Hermione agreed. This wasn't a decision they could make on their own. It was too big for that.

"Have you heard anything about this new Dark Lord?" She asked.

Kingsley looked troubled for a moment, "No, but I'll continue to ask around."

"And what about the other Order members? Are they any nearer to tracking the Death Eaters?" Hermione said.

The Minister tapped the desk. "I spoke to Remus last night and he said they were ready to begin rounding them up within the next few days."

Hermione's heart clenched in fear and a familiar worry crept up on her. The one she'd constantly lived with during her time at Hogwarts. It wasn't for herself, she never had time for that, but for the people around her. Friends and family. Those awful sleepless nights would return. Her thoughts would be filled with Ron. Ron who didn't even search a room when he was looking for someone. Ron who wouldn't have her or Harry to keep an eye on him.

"And how goes your hunt?"

Hermione blinked herself back to the present, "Ah...we'll know more after the Revel, I think."

"Scabior?"

"Fine...umm, he's behaving," she said fighting the blush rising to her cheeks. "That's all I can say for now."

The Minister smiled wryly. "Molly was...upset...when she learnt of George's injury."

"Only upset?" Hermione said sarcastically. "Well that at least is a relief!"

Kingsley chuckled, a warm dry sound that eased her nerves. "Yes, you may wish to prepare yourself for the next time you see her."

Hermione grimaced, dreading seeing the Weasley matriarch again. She drew in a deep breath and eyed the Minister. He looked tired. From the new lines bracketing his mouth to his robes that hung just a little bit looser. She though about the stuff she'd heard on the way up. That strange tension that hung in the air.

"How are things here?" She asked softly.

Kingsley winced and that was all the answer she needed, "they get worse everyday." He flipped a dark hand at the papers surrounding him, "my staff seek to drown me in paperwork, they question my every decision and when they aren't arguing with me, they're spreading rumours."

"What kind of rumours?" Hermione asked, a warning bell clanging in the back of her head.

"Dangerous ones." Kingsley muttered.

"Do they know about Scabior? About the binding curse?" She asked.

Kingsley shook his head, "not yet, but I suspect it will only be a matter of time before they do."

"And when that happens?" She said.

"Let's hope it never does." He grimaced when he saw Hermione's alarmed look, "I will be Minister no longer, and at this point it will actually be a relief, Miss Granger."

"But if they find out about the curse, they'll put you in Azkaban!"

He shook his head, "that will never happen. They may find out about Scabior's release, but they have no reason to suspect me of using Dark Magic."

Hermione wanted to feel reassured, but his words felt hollow and forced. "But you have to remain as Minister! We need someone in charge who'll treat all magical folk equally!"

Kingsley smiled sadly. Really more of a stretch of lips than a smile. "I am starting to doubt that day will ever come."

They both stared miserably at the parchment strewn desk. After a few moments in which Hermione honestly felt like she would burst into tears, she remembered the promise she'd made to herself about mentioning Azkaban. It seemed pointless to say anything about it now, she doubted Kingsley would have the power to implement any changes, but she couldn't not say something.

"Minister?"

Kingsley's eyes rose to meet hers. "Yes?"

"The prisoners at Azkaban are being tortured," She said it all in one rushed breath.

"I know." he replied bitterly. "Simbleton informed me. I have ordered an investigation, but it will not take place for at least six months."

"Six months?! That's outrageous!"

"I agree: my Minister's do not." He said, more bitterly than before.

Hermione scowled down at her shoes. _Why the hell was she fighting for these people? Were they really worth it any more?_

"Miss Granger?"

Kingsley's voice broke through her depressing thoughts. "Do you need anything? It would be prudent to get it now if you did."

She closed her eyes. Were things really that bad? They must be or he wouldn't have said. Her lips tightened as she began to make a mental list. "I could use a couple more portkeys. I also need to restock our healing potions and whatever books you have on Snatchers." At his raised eyebrows she elaborated, "I want to know exactly how they track someone. Is it magic? Or instinct? Or just guess work?"

"Of course," Kingsley said sounding amused, "perhaps a visit to the vaults are in order?"

"Yes. Thank you," she said.

The Minister rose from behind his desk, "I'll have someone escort you." He ducked out of the office for a moment, leaving Hermione and her churning thoughts alone. Worry nibbled at her, but she ignored it, focusing instead on her task of finding Bella and Peter. Once they were behind bars, she could concentrate her efforts on making the magical world a fairer place to live. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she would get Ron and Harry to help.

She was still thinking about what she would need to do when Kingsley returned, followed by an Auror.

"Hermione you remember Auror Pippit?"

"Yes, how are you?" She said, grinning at the dark haired wizard.

He smiled politely, "I'm fine thank you, yourself?"

"Good." She turned to Kingsley, "I'll see you soon?"

"Yes. I'll contact you in a few days," He drew her into another hug, "be careful," he whispered into her ear so only she could hear.

Hermione nodded and pulled away. Before the office door closed she saw the Minister drop tiredly into his chair and slump his shoulders in defeat. When she turned away from the sight, she came face to face with Burlap. The older witch was grinning at her and she looked on the verge of pulling Hermione into a hug again.

"It was nice seeing you again Mrs Burlap, goodbye," Hermione quickly said, side stepping the witch and frantically waving for Pippit to start walking.

The Auror smiled, "If you'll follow me Miss Granger?" He said backing out of the room.

"Yes, of course!" She rushed after him. "Thanks," she muttered when she caught up.

He glanced down at her, "not a fan of Mrs Burlap?"

Hermione grimaced, "it's not that, she's just so...grabby. I don't even know the woman, we've only met three times and she treats me like we've known each other forever!"

"She can be a little enthusiastic," he said wryly. "So, what brings you here today?"

Hermione ducked her head. "Just visiting," she said, hating to lie to him. Pippit was one of the good guys. Every time they'd met he'd always been incredibly kind to her. She knew he was one of the few people that Kingsley trusted within the Ministry. He also happened to be quite handsome. With dark brown, almost black hair, and deep brown eyes that glowed with intelligence. He couldn't be more than five years older than her.

He didn't ask her any further questions as they made their way down to the vaults. Perhaps knowing she wouldn't, or couldn't, answer him. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable between them, it never had been, ever since they met four weeks ago. Hermione was hoping that she could get to know him a little better after Bella and Peter were captured. But not yet. She had too much going on to be thinking those thoughts.

The Ministry vaults were located in the basements. Huge cave like rooms with row upon row of shelves stacked with all manner of things. It was cold and dimly lit and Hermione could have happily gotten lost in there for days. There didn't appear to be any sort of order to the vast amount of items. They were just placed in the area that they matched. Dark items to dark magic, potions to the massive table that ran along the back, even stray wands had their own shelf.

In charge of it all was a pale wizard with washed out grey eyes and cropped grey hair. His hands were spidery and constantly moved. He was in his mid fifties and had repulsive breath. But he was clever, far too clever for Hermione's liking.

He grinned when he saw them, offering Hermione a half bow. "Miss Granger, a real pleasure to see you once more, and you've brought Mr Pippit with you."

Hemione smile politely. "Hello, Mr Larson, how are you?"

"I'm well. All the better for seeing you my dear. I get so few visitors down here you know." His cool voice echoed off the distant walls.

Beside her Pippit shuddered. She didn't blame him. Larson had that affect on people. He was like the boogeyman come to life. It was the way he looked at you. Like he could climb into your skin, and make you do all manner of things. It had earned him the name of puppet master. Only ever whispered behind his back, never to his face.

"Minister Shacklebolt said I may collect a few things," Hermione said, shifting closer to Pippit.

Larson tipped his head. "Of course, my dear. What is it you need?" His hands fluttered towards the shelves beyond him.

"Oh, no. That's quite all right, I can find whatever I need myself." She headed towards the nearest shelves, "Thank you."

As she disappeared Pippit gave her a filthy look, which made her want to giggle. It wasn't as if she'd have it any easier searching amongst the potentially explosive items stacked around her. First she headed to the right where the portkeys were stored.

The watery light dimmed the further she got from Larson's desk, but not enough that she needed to cast. She ignored the shelves as she passed, knowing that if she stopped to look, she'd lose several hours very easily. The portkeys were kept in a large glass fronted cabinet. There must have been at least a thousand inside, each one different from the next. A small piece of parchment lay underneath each portkey, letting the user know where it was keyed to spit them out. Hermione dithered for a moment, and then decided to pick two at random. The first, a pebble, was for a coastal town in the north west of Scotland, and the second, a pine cone, would take them to a forest in Wales. She carefully tucked them in her bag and made her way to the potions table.

It took her several minutes to get there. And when she did, it was to see that new stock had been added. She knew because the bottles were clean and free of dust. The table was long. Longer even than the ones at Hogwarts and full to bursting. She took five each of; anti burn, pain relief, sleeping draught, scar cream, and bruise dissolver. They were all placed in the bottom of her bag, next to the portkeys.

Lastly she went in search of a book on Snatchers. She'd looked the last time she was here, more out of curiosity than need, but had been unable to find one. She didn't want to ask Larson. Scabior helping them was supposed to be a secret. And she didn't trust the puppet master to keep it.

In the end she spent an hour searching and finding not one thing. Not even a reference. She sighed and gave up, aware of Pippit's increasingly loud voice. Clearly he was ready to leave. The bookworm in her begged to take a few of the more interesting titles, Kingsley had given her permission after all, but she didn't want him accused of showing favouritism to her. Even if he was.

Pippit's look of relief when she emerged was hilarious. He actually ran towards her.

"Are you finished?" He asked.

Hermione smiled, "Yes." She turned to Larson, who was sitting behind his desk, "I took some potions and a couple of Portkeys." She didn't actually have to tell him what she'd taken but she was too much of a rule follower not to. Besides the moment they left he'd be walking the stacks to see what was missing.

His eyebrow arched, "no books?"

Hermione shook her head and fought the urge to flush. Not because she was lying, she _hadn't_ taken any books, but she'd wanted to. And Larsen knew that.

He gave her a secret, almost intimate smile, "then perhaps you'll take this one." He withdrew a small leather bound book from beneath his robes and held it out to her.

She didn't want to take it. But Larsen had the knack for giving her books that were full of some very interesting stuff. He was the one who'd steered her towards the sections on dark magic that had led her to the books that contained the spells that Bella had used.

Reluctantly she took the book. Almost recoiling when she felt the oily texture touch her skin. She put it in her bag with the rest and gave Larsen a smile, "Thank you."

His hands curled and fell to his side. "You are most welcome. Please come see me again soon."

Hermione nodded but didn't verbally agree. She very much doubted that she would be welcome at the Ministry once Kingsley was displaced. And that was looking to be sooner than they'd anticipated.

Pippit practically ran out of the vaults, Hermione rushing to keep up with him. By the time they reached the upper floor she was laughing. "You're supposed to be a big bad Auror!" She gasped.

"I am! Just not around Larsen," he answered.

"He is pretty scary," Hermione said, becoming aware of the looks being sent her way. Not all of them were friendly. "Well, I should be going," she said backing away from Pippit.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" He asked, a slight blush staining his cheeks.

"I'd like that," Hermione said, giving him a small wave, before disappearing behind a large purple-robed witch.

The smile refused to leave her face the entire day. Helped in part because she was able to keep out of the Snatcher's way.


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is 'M' rated and contains non con and dubious consent, plus some swearing.**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

At the same time that Hermione Granger was entering the Ministry, Bellatrix Lestrange was preparing to apparate to Daigon Alley. She was running late, because Peter hadn't gotten her the right sized clothes. He'd been crucio'd for that error. Bella had only stopped when the repulsive scab had pissed his pants. Now he was hiding in his room, behind that flimsy door, hoping that she'd forget about him. So at least he'd done one thing right. Keeping out of her way.

Now she stood, in front of a mirror, dressed in too big muggle clothes, about to drink a mouthful of polyjuice. The clothing she'd have to transfigure to fit, but only once she'd changed. Peter had simply grabbed the first thing he could find, which also happened to be the largest.

Usually she would have been beyond furious at such incompetence, but the crucio had bled most of her anger away. Now all she felt was excitement. Her stomach bubbled in the most delicious way. She lifted a finger-length vial attached to a chain from its place looped over the corner of the mirror, and placed it over her head. She would need that later, but only if she got to play. She hoped she'd get to play. Next she lifted the battered flask to her lips. The mudblood's hair was tucked inside and she tried not to think about the dirt it was bound to contain. Grimacing she tipped the flask back and filled her mouth with the foul tasting potion.

She swallowed and immediately fought the urge to gag. The thick liquid tasted like nothing on earth. It had a gritty, rotten, oiliness that coated the mouth in the most unpleasant way. It would be worth it though. Every hideous second. Her stomach cramped when the polyjuice hit, a sharp instant pain. She shuddered when she felt her skin begin to loosen and stretch. Then it snapped back into place like a rubber band, only tighter in places and slack in others. An odd imploding sensation began to radiate from the centre of her chest, spreading to the rest of her body, before disappearing with a faint pop.

Bella opened her eyes and scowled at the image before her. Hermione, Mudblood, Granger. She sneered, and her reflection followed suit. It was an expression that didn't look good on the Mudblood's face. She'd have to watch that when she got to Diagon Alley. It wouldn't do for anyone to suspect.

Pulling her gaze from the mirror she withdrew her wand. In a move few wizards or witches would dare attempt, Bella pointed the wand at herself and transfigured the clothes to fit the Mudblood's frame. She shortened and made the jumper tighter. The skirt was more problematic. She was pretty sure the Mudblood would have worn those horrid muggle jeans, but all Peter had brought was a plain purple floaty skirt. She frowned and made it smaller, not so it was tight but so it brushed the top of her knees instead of her ankles. The flat brown shoes she refused to wear, instead using her own black ankle boots.

Once she was satisfied she could pass for the Mudblood she left the safe house and apparated to Diagon Alley. She strolled the streets with an arrogance Hermione Granger did not possess. The fake smile she plastered on drew a few odd looks, but Bella was too caught up in her plan to take much notice.

By the end of the day, Bellatrix Lestrange, would know where the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix were hidden. She grinned and marched down the street, wild brown curls swaying behind her. Bella wasn't worried about being seen. Or rather, Hermione Granger, being seen, because she knew the real Granger girl was at the Ministry meeting Kingsley. The Dark Lord had told her so.

A witch attempted to speak to her but she merely brushed past and made her way to the tavern. It was bad enough having to look like the Mudblood, she didn't want to have to act like her as well. Not until she had to anyway.

The tavern was busy, but still her entrance drew attention. A few people waved enthusiastically and beckoned her over. Bella ignored them and strode towards the bartender.

"I'm meeting someone. Ron Weasley," she snapped out.

The bartender, a rough looking wizard, cocked his eyebrow at her sharp tone. "Blue door, top of the stairs. You're friend is already there," he said with a voice that sounded like rocks rubbing together.

Bella spun away from him and headed to the back where the stairs were located. She clattered up, pushing past a wizard that was heading down.

"Hey!" The slightly drunken wizard said.

"Fuck off," Bella said, glaring until the wizard passed her and continued down the stairs.

Bella forced out a tense breath. Trying to reign in her temper. She only had to hold on for a little bit longer. Then she could go home and hex Peter some more.

Once she reached the door, she paused before entering. Thinking about what she had to do. Her first job was to gain the location of the Order's headquarters, after that she could have some fun. The kind that she enjoyed the most. The kind that left mental scars. An eager smile curled her lip as she tapped lightly on the door and entered.

"Ron!" She said in a breathless voice.

The red head turned from his place by the window, "Mione!" he said rushing towards her, "are you okay? Why did you want to meet? Did that toad Snatcher do something?"

Bella smiled coyly and pressed her hand to Ron's chest. His heart thudded steadily. "I missed you silly!"

"Huh?" Ron shifted, looking slightly confused.

Bella immediately backed off, realizing she'd made a mistake. She'd been sure the Mudblood whore had been fucking Potter and the Weasley traitor. That was what everyone said. Draco had told her himself that they were always sneaking around together. What the hell else would they have been doing if not fucking?

Buying some time, she wandered over to the bed and sat down. "I was worried about you," she said, hoping for a better response.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I can take care of myself Mione," he said sprawling on the scruffy chair next to the window. "Besides, you're the one who's spending time with that Snatcher scum. Mum went mental when she saw George's clock."

"I know. He's horrid," Bella said flicking brown curls out of her eyes. How on earth did the girl ever see with this mop. Next time she saw her, she'd do her a favour and cut the lot off.

"Well it was your idea to use him!" He accused.

Bella nodded and fought the urge to roll her eyes or pull out her wand. The dark Lord had given his permission for her to mess with the Weasley brat a bit, but she was only allowed to imperio him if nothing else worked. A last resort he'd called it. And she hadn't tried everything yet.

"How's Harry?" She asked, instead of giving in to her impulse to go against the Dark Lord and use the unforgivable.

Ron shrugged, "the same."

Bella ground her teeth in frustration. No wonder the Mudblood had never fucked him. He was almost as stupid as Pettigrew. Well, no, that was a lie. The stinking rat did have some brains. He was the one who'd told her all about the Weasley's pathetic messenger owl. Pig. After that it had been easy to intercept the owl, and have it deliver a message to Ron. Of course she'd told Ron to keep it a secret, their meeting, and made sure that the ink disappeared as soon as it was read.

"Did you tell anyone we were meeting?" She asked, making sure he'd done as she'd asked.

Ron nodded. "No, you told me not to didn't you?"

Bella sighed and reclined onto the saggy mattress. The quilt that covered it was a horrid puce colour and itched terribly. Ron tracked the move and then flushed red when he met Bella's eye.

"I miss Harry," she said, thrusting out the Mudblood's pitiful breasts. But it seemed even their small size was enough to draw the redhead's eyes. "I miss my room as well," she added.

Ron snorted, "you miss Grimmauld Place?"

Bella leapt up, "yes!"

She had it. The location of the Order's Headquarters. And Grimmauld Place at that! She'd visited the house often as a child. And as a Black, they wouldn't be able to prevent her from entering. No matter what wards they placed, she would always be able to pass through!

Her smile turned wicked as she turned to face Ron. The blood traitor deserved a reward. Not only for giving her the location, and so easily, stupid boy, but also for giving her another way to punish the Granger girl. Bella didn't know much about friendships, but she was pretty sure that fucking with Ron would hurt the Mudblood.

And she'd just thought of the most deliciously twisted way to hurt them both. It wouldn't be the same rush as causing physical pain, which is what she'd planned. But if done correctly, mental pain often left the biggest scars.

She looked at Ron coyly beneath her lashes, "I really did miss you Ron."

The redhead flushed, "Umm...yeah...I missed you as well." He shifted awkwardly in his chair.

Enjoying his discomfort she decided to push it a little further, "did you? Sometimes I'm not even sure that you like me."

"Blimey, Mione! We snogged didn't we?" Ron muttered, refusing to look at her.

Bella grinned, "would you like to do it again?"

Ron gulped. "Uh."

"Well! Come here then." Bella patted the bed beside her in invitation.

The Weasley brat clambered to his feet and walked eagerly towards her.

"Sit," Bella ordered.

Ron sat and then didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. He dithered for a moment before settling them onto his knees. Bella placed her own on top of his. Brushing softly across his fingers and knuckles.

"Ron," she whispered leaning in for a kiss. Remembering only at the last second that her mouth would taste of polyjuice. She instead swung to the side and pressed her lips against the side of his neck. His skin was hot and smooth beneath her mouth. She wanted to bite it.

She grinned as his hands came up to hold her waist. For a while she let him hold her. And whilst he did, she peppered kisses onto his neck, jaw and cheeks. She drew her hand through his silky hair, digging her nails into his scalp viciously.

Ron hissed, "Mione!"

Bella relaxed her fingers, "sorry, I got carried away."

"Yeah...well...we don't have to stop," he said, twisting so he faced her more fully.

Bella hid behind the vast mass of curls so he wouldn't see her look of triumph. "Okay."

It would be horrid of course. Fucking a blood traitor. He wasn't fit to touch her feet never mind her cunt. But it would be worth it when they all found out. Especially the Mudblood. And she would. Bella would make sure. Of course, it would still be a while before she could know. The Mudblood still had to be manoeuvred into place, and the Order had to be destroyed. But that would all happen soon.

Ron's hand was stroking her thigh, almost like he was petting a cat instead of trying to seduce a girl. She almost wanted to tell him that he needn't bother. He was getting inside her knickers whether he wanted to or not.

Bella shifted onto his lap, making sure her groin rubbed against his as she straddled him. Ron grunted but he didn't push her away.

"Touch me Ron," she whispered into his ear.

"Are you sure?" He said.

Bella smiled. "Yes."

Ron ran his hands up her back and Bella let out a sensual moan. It would be so much easier if she could just imperio him into having sex with her. But if she did that, then he'd always be able to say it was forced on him. That he didn't have a choice. And where was the fun in that?

She could feel him getting hard beneath her. And every time she rubbed herself over him he would alternate between gasping and moaning. He still hadn't moved his hands from her waist. She rolled her eyes, and decided to move things along by removing her jumper. She'd purposely gone bra free. Ron's eyes practically bugged out of his head. His eyes flicked over her and his mouth gaped like a fish.

"Kiss me," she ordered thrusting her breasts towards him.

Ron gulped. She actually heard the wet click as he swallowed. But he didn't move. He just kept looking at her like she'd grown another head. Or two. Sighing she took a hold of his hair and used it to pull him forward so his mouth collided with her nipple. Even then he still didn't seem to know what to do.

"Ron!"

He mumbled something inarticulate and then took her nipple into his mouth. It was hot and wet and not much else. Bella sighed and studied her nails. They were starting to fade from the soft pink to pale washed out white. The first sign that the polyjuice was wearing off.

Knowing her time was running out, Bella shifted so she could reach down to undo his jeans. Ron grunted as her fingers worked at his fly.

"Uh...Mione?"

"It's okay Ron. I want to," Bella cooed into his ear.

Finally she got his pants undone and managed to pull his cock free. It was firm and hot in her hand, she pumped it a few times. More to prevent him from thinking with his other brain than any real desire to touch him. Using her other hand she pulled her knickers to the side and shuffled forward until the tip of him barely entered her.

She had to time it just right. She wanted him to come at the exact moment the polyjuice wore off. Ron squirmed beneath her and she slid down an inch. Then two. Then, slammed down until she was filled with his ruddy cock.

"Mmm...that's nice Ron." She didn't move, enjoying the sensation of being stretched by the young wizard. She squeezed her inner walls, clamping until the redhead grunted. Almost there.

Bella glanced at her fingernails again. Pale, washed out with the barest hint of blue. They were hers. The change would only be minutes away. She smiled as she began to undulate on top of him. Rising and falling in a smooth easy pace set to draw Ron near to the edge. She pulled his head into the side of her neck and pressed, hoping to obscure his view of her darkening hair.

She picked up the speed as she felt the strands slithering across the skin of her back, resuming it's usual length and texture. Only when her skin began to crawl did she squeeze tightly around his cock as she rode him. His breathing stuttered and she laughed. Her own twisted cackle crawling out of her throat. She reared back, forcing his head from her neck. The look of shock, mixed with pleasure urged her faster. Slamming down onto to him, hard and fast. Ron's hands tightened on her waist, but it was too late.

He came inside her with a pained cry. The most perfect sound she could wish to hear. Whilst he was emptying himself, Bella reached for her wand and placed it on the soft skin of his neck. She pressed it viciously against his racing pulse.

"Look at me Ronald Weasley," she ordered as his body went limp, inside and beneath.

The redhead shook his head and a single tear leaked from beneath his lashes. Bella leant forward and licked it away. Salty sadness.

"I will not tell you again," she hissed.

His eyes opened, blue orbs shiny and filled with disgust.

"Obliviate," she said.

Ron's eyes cleared of all emotion and he stared blankly at her. Bella placed the tip of her wand to his temple and withdrew the memories from the moment that she entered the room and his memory of receiving the owl. At the same time she removed the small vial from its chain, flipped the little lid and decanted each of the memories inside. Once she had them, she recapped it and sent Ron to sleep with a whispered spell.

As far as Ron was concerned, Hermione Granger had never arrived. The only risk would be if the Mudblood spoke to anyone who'd seen her in the alley. But she doubted that would happen. Granger seemed to be keeping a low profile.

She climbed off him, tucked him back inside his pants, adjusted her own knickers, and replaced her jumper. Before leaving the room she took another mouthful of the polyjuice.

Whilst it took effect, she stroked her finger over the vial.

She loved having such wicked secrets.

This one she would share the next time she saw Hermione Granger.

* * *

 **So, what did you think? I didn't really like doing that to Ron, he's not my favourite, but nobody deserves that kind of attention from Bella!**

 **ATTENTION! Okay, now that I have it, I want to ask you guys something. In the chapter Bella mentions that the next time she sees Hermione she'd going to cut her hair. My question for you lot is: Cut or not cut?**

 **I honestly can't decide, Help me out?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Earlier than planned. Who am I kidding? I don't have a plan. Once it's wrote it's uploaded, hopefully for you all to enjoy!**

 **Also I've started a new fic. It's called Freedom and it's a Barty Crouch Jr X Hermione story. (Requested by the fantastic Mrs Marple Poirot) I'll update it when I can. But this one takes priority, it will not be neglected.**

 **Warning for this chapter folks, smut ahead. (just a bit) (And it's Scabior and Hermione!)**

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Chapter Fourteen

Scabior was getting on Hermione's nerves. He wouldn't stop hovering. _And_ he was in the tent. He never came into the tent. But she'd woken up that morning and there he was, sitting at the battered table and smirking at her. She didn't even have George to hide behind, because the lazy sod was still sleeping.

Which she was only partially responsible for. After she'd returned from the Ministry, as way of an apology for not talking him to Diagon Alley, she'd talked George into showing her some of his jokes and then they'd got tipsy on Butterbeer. She shouldn't have been doing that. Drinking with him. But for once, she just wanted to forget her worries and see George smile. And she figured that Butterbeer would be better than Firewhisky. At least it wouldn't rot their stomachs. But they hadn't fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning.

So now, she had to deal with Scabior on her own. Her plan was to ignore him. It worked well. Really well. Until she sat, as far from him as the table would allow, to eat some toast.

"Yer embarrassed 'bout the kiss, Angel?"

Heat filled her cheeks. "No!..I...we said we wouldn't talk about it," she muttered. Her face felt like it was on fire and she couldn't look away from her clenched fingers. The toast was a crumbled mess on the table.

"Did we?" He said.

"Yes," Hermione hissed, eyeing him accusingly.

Scabior cocked his head in pretend thought. "Don't recall making that promise, Dove."

"Then perhaps there's something wrong with your brain," she snapped, dropping the remaining toast and crossing her arms.

The Snatcher gave a predatory smile, "You want to examine me to check, Pet?"

"I don't need to examine you to know you're a prat," she said dryly.

Scabior grinned and eased further into his chair in that insufferably arrogant way. Hermione eyed him sourly. He'd taken off his coat and now only wore the waistcoat and white shirt. He still had on those ridiculous pants. And his hair was a tangled mess, that almost put hers to shame. Almost. She hadn't remembered to brush it before she fell asleep, so it now resembled a rat's nest. One she had pulled back into a ponytail that did nothing to disguise how knotty it was.

She flicked her eyes up to meet his. He was watching her with a small quirk to his lips. She narrowed her eyes. He was going to say something. Something that was sure to embarrass her. Something about: The Mistake.

He opened his mouth.

"How do you track people?" She said beating him to it.

He was silent for a long moment, but then he said, "didn't quite 'ear that, Sweet."

"How convenient," Hermione scoffed, "would you like me to repeat it?"

Scabior tapped his fingers on the table lazily, "no point, Treasure, I won't 'ear it if yer do."

"And if I ask you about being a Snatcher? Will you hear that?" She said.

He sniffed, "wouldn't bet on it." He pointed to his ear, "It comes an goes at the oddest times Precious, bit like lust, there one moment." He smirked at her, the nasty one that said she wouldn't like what he was about to say, "the next yer pressed against a wall, tongue down yer throat and gasping for more."

Hermione blushed again. "I wasn't gasping," she said, ignoring the treacherous dance her stomach preformed.

"Yer tell yerself those pretty lies, Pet." Scabior leant forward, "whatever 'elps yer sleep at night."

"You really are vile," Hermione stated.

He grinned, not the least bit offended. And Hermione found that neither was she. Scabior was just being...Scabior. There was an odd kind of comfort in it. And he wouldn't be Scabior if he didn't tease her about; The Mistake. She just didn't want him to tease her in front of anyone else. If it ever got back to Harry and Ron, she might as well wave goodbye to their friendship. Snogging a Death Eater would be one of those things that neither of them would be able to forgive.

"Besides it will never happen again," she said looking him dead in the eye, "and I'll deny it ever did, if you accidentally let it slip out."

He inclined his head, "challenge accepted." A rough laugh escaped him at Hermione's alarmed look.

Her stomach flipped. "It...it wasn't a challenge." She said, rather nervously.

"Are yer sure?"

Hermione scowled, "of course I am!" He was deliberately trying to unnerve her. And she was letting him. What on earth was wrong with her? Why was she even speaking to him? Where was this...fascination...coming from? Maybe if she knew more about him, it would disappear. Just as soon as she had the confirmation of what a horrid person he was. Because he had to be. Anything else was unthinkable.

She eyed him from beneath her lashes. What questions to ask? Her eyes settled on the red streak adorning his hair. "Why do you wear that?" She said touching a hand to the side of her hair to indicate the streak.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, thin lips pressing together and eyes losing focus. "And why would yer want ter know that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Curious," she said, and realized that she really was. Then she got mad at herself, because she was supposed to be asking him things that would drive away this strange attraction. Not increase it.

"Well, Pretty, yer might call it a badge of 'onor," he said.

"Like your dark mark?" She sneered, unable to help herself.

Scabior shook his head in mock disappointment. "Now, now, Dove, 'ere I am trying to 'ave a decent conversation and yer 'ave to go an spoil it."

Hermione lowered her eyes. She felt almost ashamed. He was right. She was mad at herself and she was taking it out on him. Hermione had never wanted to be that person. The one who threw out petty comments, and used words to wound. She'd even sneered as she said it. Just like Draco Malfoy.

When she lifted her eyes back up, Scabior was regarding his nails, seemingly not bothered. She could just about make out the scuffed skin still circling his wrist and the edge of the scar marring his palm. The scar that they had given him.

She took a breath. "You're right. I'm sorry." She met his eyes and saw by his guarded look that she'd surprised him, "I really do want to know what the red streak means."

He regarded her for a long moment, then bobbed his head. "How 'bout we make a deal, Love. Question fer a question."

Hermione hesitated, "nothing personal."

A smile spread across his lips, "but they're the best kind."

"Which is why we won't be asking them," she said primly, aware that she looked like a prissy swot, and not caring one bit. Personal questions would get her into trouble faster than Harry catching a snitch.

Scabior chuckled, "if that's what yer wish."

"It is," she said emphatically. "So what does the streak stand for?"

He lifted his hand to idly touch the red strand. "An hundred solo Snatches." Inky eyes accessed her, "my turn."

"Your turn for what?" George said, yawning the words out and stumbling into the cooking area.

Hermione hid a smile at Scabior's sour look, thank Merlin for George and his impromptu interruption. She'd know the Snatcher was about to ask something completely inappropriate. Something that would make her stomach flip and cheeks flush. She could tell by the way his eyes had darkened and his tongue peeked out to touch the centre of his lip.

"Nothing," she said grinning at George.

Scabior's eyes narrowed at the triumph she didn't even try to hide. "Come now Pet, let's not exclude Weasley from the game."

"What game?" George asked, dropping himself into the chair next to Hermione.

"It wasn't a game, we were just asking questions," she said.

George swung forward, "like truth or dare?" he said excitedly.

"No!" She snapped out.

Scabior grinned, "but we could."

Hermione looked horrified. George looked delighted. "We are _not_ playing that," she glared at Scabior, "and we are no longer asking questions either!"

"Ah, ah, I'm owed one, Dove," Scabior chided.

"But..." Hermione said looking at George for some support.

The redhead was shaking his head in mock disappointment, "fair is fair, Granger. You wouldn't want to break the rules now would you?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Are you ganging up on me?" her voice rose at the end in disbelief.

George giggled like a loon, "yeah!" He slapped his hand on the table, and regarded the Snatcher, "make it a good one."

Scabior looked amused by George's enthusiasm. "But Miss Granger 'ere has made a rule. No personal questions."

"But they're the best kind!" George said.

"Shut up!" Hermione ignored Scabior's pointed look and scowled at the table in disgust, "one question, nothing personal."

"Ask her about Ron! Or what her favourite pet name is!" George said, nudging Hermione's shoulder in his excitement.

The Snatcher regarded her shrewdly. "They'd come under personal, wouldn't they Angel?"

Hermione nodded and avoided his gaze. Surprised that he wasn't taking advantage. Or maybe he only did that when it was just the two of them.

"Well then, I'll ask about the Revel. " His voice had taken on a serious edge, "yer think it's a trap?"

Hermione's eyes snapped up to meet his. That wasn't what she'd been expecting him to ask. And certainly not so seriously.

"Do you?" she said, noting that George had snapped straight beside her and was listening intently.

Scabior shrugged. "Not for me ter say, Pet. An' the question's fer you."

"Then yeah, I think it's a trap," she said, glancing at George, who was frowning and staring into space.

"Yet you'll go anyway?" Scabior asked, seemingly confused.

Hermione bit her lip, "it's for the Order to decide, not me," she said, noting that George still hadn't said a word.

"Yer let someone else decide whether yer live or die?"

She shook her head. "No. It isn't like that. We have a choice. We aren't forced into doing what the Order says. We _choose_ to do it."

Scabior looked puzzled."Why?"

"Because it's the right thing. Because we're fighting for a better world." She pointed her finger at each of them, "for all of us."

They sat quietly after that. All three of them lost in different thoughts. George as always, thought of Fred, and wondered how on earth he'd live the rest of his life without him by his side. Hermione thought of what she could do to offset the dangers the Revel was bound to throw their way. And Scabior thought about the odd feeling that had gripped his heart when the image of Hermione Granger's dead and lifeless body had flashed before his eyes.

They were interrupted from these troubling imaginings by a Patronus. A beautiful silver lynx that entered the tent and circled once before pausing in front of Hermione. It belonged to Kingsley.

"Order meeting tonight, seven pm." It then prowled away and disappeared in a puff of silver smoke.

"Well," George said, "this should be fun."

It wasn't going to be fun. Hermione would have to face both Ron and Molly, so she knew it wouldn't be. But she was hoping that Scabior's presence would distract them enough that they wouldn't remember that they were mad at her. He was bound to do something to upset them, even if it was just by walking in and breathing.

They were both standing together now, waiting for George. He was faffing about with some cream to try and disguise what was left of the scolds on his chest. She'd told him not to bother. Molly had a knack for zoning in on injuries with frightening efficiency, and no amount of cream would fool her. But he'd insisted and so Hermione and Scabior were left waiting in the dark outside the tent. It was cold and each time they let out a breath, a white puff drifted up towards the cloudless sky.

The Snatcher wasn't speaking and it was making her nervous. But she was determined not to break the uneasy silence. So she shuffled from side to side, whilst he scanned the horizon. In the end she snapped the tent flap aside, and shouted, "if you're not out in two seconds, George, we're leaving without you!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming, keep your hair on!" George pushed her aside. "Well, come on then we're gonna be late!"

Hermione tutted and followed him, Scabior close behind. Once they cleared the wards she took out the portkey that would take them to Grimmauld Place and the meeting. They were the last to arrive, which actually worked out well because it meant that Molly and Ron didn't have the chance to corner her. She entered the room first, George next, the door was closed before Scabior could enter. She didn't try to argue. Scabior wasn't an Order member, he might be forced into helping them, but he wasn't one of them. And he never would be. But it did mean he wouldn't be able to divert Molly and Ron's attention from her.

She sat next to Ginny and deliberately took up more room than she needed to so nobody else could sit by her. Kingsley was standing in front of the fireplace and regarding them sombrely.

"Hermione has discovered the location of the Revel. It will take place tomorrow night at Swinside stone circle." Murmurs filled the room. "We must decide what to do."

"We attack, put the full force of the Order behind it, can you get the Ministry to supply some Auror's?" Bill said.

Kingsley frowned, "I can, but neither Hermione nor myself fully trust the information. It could be a trap."

"Then we go carefully," Remus said. "We circle the location, perhaps make timed apparation, have the Auror's wait at a distance."

Everyone nodded apart from Molly, "It's too dangerous, one of my children may get injured." She stared accusingly at Hermione as she spoke.

"You're children are old enough to look after themselves," Hermione replied. She hadn't meant to say it. And by the slightly alarmed looks the other Order member's were flashing they wished she hadn't either.

Molly's face was rapidly turning a furious shade of purple. "What did you say?" she hissed.

Hermione flicked her gaze towards Ginny, who shook her head the barest amount, "I..."

"Now, you listen here young lady," Molly thrust her finger viscously at Hermione, "you might not have any family to worry about any more, but I most certainly do!"

A deafening silence. One in which everyone looked shocked by Molly's words. Bitterness filled Hemione. Not one of them said anything. Too scared to stand up to Molly, bloody, Weasley and her temper.

"You bring a Death Eater into our midsts and have the cheek to talk about traps?" Molly's eyes were narrowed and she was looking at Hermione like she was a piece of dirt.

"Now then Molly," Arthur said, patting his wife's knee in the hopes of ending the argument.

"How dare you." Hermione whispered, still reeling from the comment about her family. "How dare you say that to me!"

"I'll say that and more!" Molly yelled getting to her feet.

"Mum!" Ginny said, "calm down."

"I will not! I entrusted the care of George to her and she let him get hurt." Her shrill voice bounced off the walls and everyone of the Order members winced.

Hermione jumped up, her temper in shreds, "I did not _let_ him get hurt! It just happened! And I will not let you blame me for it. You and I are done! I will..."

"Mione, don't," Ron said stepping towards her.

Hermione stared at him. "Don't what Ron? Stick up for myself? Did you not hear what she said to me?"

"Don't you speak to him like that," Molly shook free of Arthur.

"Ladies, please," Kingsley said finally stepping into the centre of the room.

Hermione folded her lips in annoyance. When she looked around the room, not one person would meet her eyes. Apart from Molly, who looked far too pleased with herself. Hermione had never felt so isolated in her entire life. Had never been made to feel like she didn't belong.

Her eyes burned with impending tears. Tears she was determined not to shed in front of them. "I'll leave you to it, let me know what the decision is later," Hermione spun around and made her way to the door.

George jumped up, "Granger wait, you can't leave without me."

"I can and I will, besides, don't you need your mother's permission?" She said giving Molly a sour look.

"Why you impudent..."

Hemione closed the door on Molly's shrill voice. She marched quickly towards the front door, everything blurry and out of focus. She passed Scabior as he reclined on the bottom stair.

"We're leaving," she said, not even pausing to see if he followed.

"Miss Granger," Kingsley's voice.

She ignored him and carried on out of the front door. As soon as she was clear of the wards she used the portkey to return to the tent. Alone. Scabior could find his own way back. She was fed up of looking after everyone else.

It was silent on the moor. Not even the wind blew to disturb the peace. She sank to her knees and burst into tears. She would never forgive Molly Weasley. Not ever. She didn't even think she'd be able to forgive the others. Remus and Kingsley especially. They didn't have the excuse of blood to hide behind.

She must have sat there for ten minutes, letting the tears leak out of her eyes as her heart slowly turned to stone. A kind of reckless anger began to build inside her.

The crack of apparation sounded to her left. She ignored it. Not even turning to see who it was.

"Yer left me behind Pet," Scabior then.

Hermione remained silent. But she did scrub the tears from her cheeks and tighten her lips, waiting for him to gloat over her pain. He sat down beside her causing her to narrow her eyes in warning.

"Go. Away," she said.

Scabior scooted around so that they were facing each other, "I don't think I will, Treasure."

"Why not?!"

He eyed her with a feral look, "cause I like seeing yer suffer, Dove." He said it in the most absurdly gleeful voice. So absurd that she knew he didn't mean for her to take it seriously.

Hermione snorted, "you really are a prat."

"And, yer wound me at every turn, Treacle," Scabior said inching forward to stroke his fingers along her calf in an almost suggestive way.

Hermione moved her leg and the Snatcher grinned. "What are you doing?" She said.

His eyebrows waggled and a leer curled his lips, "Trying to seduce yer," He grinned and swayed forward, "Is it workin?"

She bit her lip and avoided his gaze. She should say no. That was what her head was telling her to do. And Hermione always listened to her head. Because it had never once let her down before. But this once, she didn't want to. She wanted to do something that didn't require a list of pro's and con's. That didn't require thoughts, but feelings. Still, she was shocked when she said, "yes."

Scabior went still and that ever present confidence he wore like a cloak, wavered the tiniest bit. A small smile graced her lips. She'd surprised him. She'd surprised herself too. But she didn't want to take it back. Even though she knew she should. It was dangerous, this...whatever...it was. But it was honest and true. And it made her _feel._

He continued to look at her and she stared back. "I'm not scared of you," she said.

A slow deadly smile crossed his lips. "Yer should be, Love." He inched towards her, as slowly as a stalking predator. Closing in until all she could see was his face.

Hermione's breath heaved in and out and she tipped back onto the heather as he pressed closer. Hovering over her, arms braced either side of her head. An endless moment was spent staring at each other, each daring the other to move first. And then he was on her. Lips forcing hers apart, tongue greedily filling her mouth and body pressing hers into the ground.

She gasped, arching her back and using the lapels of his coat to pull him closer. He chuckled as he pressed soft open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck. Pausing to swirl his tongue over her pulse and making her whimper and tighten her grip. Tingles travelled down her spine as his hand swept down to grasp the back of her knee. He jerked it up and around his waist. Smirking when Hermione groaned.

"Yer like that, Love?" He asked, bumping his erection against her.

Hermione bared her teeth and reached up to grab his hair, "I like it better when you don't talk." She whispered dragging his head down and sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. She bit down and he growled. A low guttural sound that vibrated against her chest and made her pelvis tighten.

Scabior pulled back and Hermione let out a whimper of disappointment. It didn't last long, because she found that if she tilted her hips and pressed upwards, then he rubbed between her legs in the most delicious way.

The snatcher grabbed her waist stopping the movement, "I can do better than that, Love." He leant down to nuzzle her neck, "The question is, do yer want me to?"

Hermione bit her lip. Did she? Did she want more of that squirmy feeling? "Yes. Please."

His breath huffed against her neck, "So polite. I like that, makes me want ter reward yer."

Her breath stuttered when his fingers traced the waistband of her jeans. It stopped altogether when he popped the button free and undid the zip. She'd never gone this far before. Not with anyone but herself. And she didn't want to stop now, so when his hand crept down and beneath the elastic of her knickers, she widened her legs to give him better access.

He immediately slipped his hand down and cupped her, his fingers sliding through her wet folds. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She'd never felt anything like it before. It was different than when she did it to herself. More intense. More satisfying and definitely more fun. Or it would be, if he'd move his damn fingers

She opened her eyes and the moment she did he pressed his thumb to the side of her clit and rubbed. "I wanna see yer eyes when yer come, Love." He growled.

Hermione blinked and met his dark gaze. He was staring at her as if he wanted to climb into her skin and study her brain. She shook her head, not in denial, but because her body felt restless and she couldn't help but move. She just wanted to feel her body tighten and explode.

The Snatcher grinned, enjoying her frustration and deliberately softening his touch so she barely felt him brushing her flesh. "Ah...please." She begged.

"Say my name Love," he pressed hard against her clit, "and I'll make yer fly."

For a moment she didn't want to say it. Didn't want to give him that power over her. But the way her skin tingled and pulsed, the way the heat of his body surrounded her and his breath tickled her cheek drove her insane.

"Scabior." She whispered. Softly so only he would hear.

He pressed a kiss to the soft skin just below her ear and entered her with one finger, a swift rough move that made her gasp. He used his thumb to circle her clit and that was all it took to send her over. She came hard and fast, clenching his finger as he pushed in and out of her. Body snapping tight, teeth almost puncturing her lip, eyes rolling back. Scabior held her the entire time.

He didn't let go until she'd stopped twitching, and even then it was only so he could suck his fingers clean. "Yer taste good Love."

Hermione blushed and rolled away from him. Unable now to meet his gaze. She stood up, legs weak and swiftly fastened her pants. What on earth was she supposed to say? Thank you?

"Umm..."

Scabior snorted, "go ter bed, Love."

Hermione bobbed her head and spun away. Her steps were surprisingly steady as she made her way to the tent. Perhaps, because she didn't regret it.

Not one bit.

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 **Thoughts?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi guys, thanks for continuing to support me and adding me to your various lists. It actually makes me do a ridiculous dance each time.**

 **(The vote count for Hermione's hair stands at 3 to leave it long and 2 to cut it. But there's still time for you to chip in with your preference if you haven't already done so!)**

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Chapter Fifteen

Scabior couldn't keep his eyes off Hermione. The wild haired witch was reading, but every now and then she'd peek over the page at him and blush in the most charmingly innocent way. He couldn't tease her about it either, because George had arrived earlier that morning and stuck himself in the middle of them. Hermione hadn't spoken to the redhead at first, choosing instead to pointedly ignore him. But then George had sat down next to her, muttered something unheard in her ear, and passed her a neatly folded letter.

Whatever it contained had made Hermione tearful and smile softly as she'd read. After she'd finished, she'd carefully tucked it away in her pocket and then reached across to hug George. Scabior had felt his stomach twist with jealousy at the sight of the redheads arms holding her. He'd cursed himself ten ways to hell for that. Anger filling him, at the confusing swirl of emotions that the witch was stirring inside him. Somewhere between the time she'd handed him the scarf and his hand slipping down the damp gusset of her knickers, he'd fallen for her.

He scowled as he got up and left the tent. Needing the quiet solitude the moor offered. As soon as the heather scented air brushed his face his breathing eased, and the tightness left his chest. He was somewhat amused to discover that he was panicking. Not because of the unwanted feelings, but because he didn't know what to do about them. And that was something that didn't sit well with him at all. He'd never before had to think about what to do, he'd always just known.

The Snatcher instinct that ruled his life said; take her, claim her, snatch her. But his brain was saying something very different. It whispered of how dangerous that would be, how stupid, of how someone like Hermione, fucking, Granger, would never choose to be with someone like him. But she had let him touch her. And from the tight feel of her, clenching around his finger, he'd been the only one, other than herself to ever do so. That had made him feel...honoured. Which had lasted a few minutes before reality set in, and he realized that in his own twisted way; he cared.

He thumped down onto the ground and scowled. The real trouble was that, although a small part of him still wanted to hurt her, he didn't want anyone _else_ to. He didn't want them to speak to her, or spend time with her, or even look at her. He scoffed at his own idiocy. Scabior, best Snatcher in the wizarding world, brought to his knees by a muggle witch. Not that he'd ever let anyone else find that out. No, that secret was for his heart alone.

An hour later he was still there, the shredded stalks of heather surrounding him. The cooling air seeping under his clothes and making him shudder.

"Oi, Scabior!" George weasley's voice floated across the flat landscape.

Scabior sighed in annoyance and climbed to his feet. He twisted to see the lanky redhead waving him over. He trudged over, mood sour and head still a jumbled mess.

"What d'yer want?" He muttered, when he was level with George.

"We want to talk about tonight," he said, smacking his hand on Scabior's shoulder in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture.

The Snatcher froze. "Yer might wanna remove yer hand from my person, Weasley," he said quite seriously.

"Ah. Yeah." George quickly dropped his hand, "Umm...no offence, yeah?"

Scabior merely looked at him, a dead eyed stare that made the redhead shift uncomfortably.

"Well." George rushed into the tent, leaving the bad-tempered Snatcher behind.

Scabior shook his head in disgust. How the hell they'd won the war he'd never know. From what he'd seen they were all a bunch of incompetent sissies. With the exception of Hermione, and perhaps Kingsley. At least those two knew you sometimes had to fight dirty in order to win. He sucked in a breath of cool air and entered the tent.

Hermione and George were sitting at the table, a bowl of thick soup in front of them. A third bowl had been placed opposite them, where he presumed he was supposed to sit. He noted in slight irritation that he'd been put nearest to George. Did the witch think he was going to throw her across the table and fuck her in front of the Weasley brat if they sat too close or something?

He made a big fuss of sitting down, drawing out the chair, and easing down. Making sure to stretch out his legs, so his feet were crowding Hermione's under the table. Her lips tightened and she shifted ever so slightly away. He grinned and started in on the soup, using his spoon to gesture for them to get on with it.

"The Order has decided to attack the Revel," Hermione said.

Scabior grunted. He'd suspected as much. "And when the curse's start flyin'?"

Hermione shared a look with George. "We fight until it becomes too dangerous. Hopefully the element of surprise will be on our side," Hermione said, frowning when George began to scoop the soup into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"And if it's a trap?" He eyed Hermione intently. "Where's the surprise then, Dove?"

She looked at him for the first time, "Kingsley's arranged for some Auror's to be there as backup." She glanced at George, "and we'll be working in teams, back to back."

He tapped his fingers on the edge of the bowl. "And who'll 'ave your back, Beautiful?"

Hermione tipped her head at George. "He will."

Scabior's mouth puckered in distaste, "yer kiddin me Pet?" He flicked his gaze at the still eating Weasley. "He can't even eat his soup without spillin' an yer want him watchin' yer back?"

"Hey!" George yelled, looking down to check his jumper.

Hermione swayed forward, "I trust him."

Scabior sneered. "He didn't 'ave yer back last night though did he?" He flicked his hand and George's bowl tipped over, "or maybe yer like havin' his mother insult yer."

"You heard that?" She said.

He snorted. "I'm a Snatcher aint I?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Molly apologised. This morning actually. With a very nice letter and although what she said hurt me a great deal. I will forgive her." She folded her hands primly together. "So as far as I'm concerned, last night is forgotten."

His jaw ticked as he stared her down. "Forgotten?" He dipped a finger into the soup, covering the digit in the gloopy liquid. He watched Hermione flush as he brought it to his lips and sucked it clean, "are yer sure, Love?"

"Yes!" She hissed, but her face was an impressive shade of red that put the Weasley's hair to shame.

Scabior smirked. Not so forgotten then. Beside her, George was eyeing them both curiously, his forehead furrowed. "Got somethin' yer want to say Weasley?" He snapped, taking his anger out on the redhead.

George shook his head, "No!" He raised his hands in surrender, "I don't have anything to say."

"Well keep it that way," he sneered, before turning to Hermione, "an where will I be durin' this suicide mission, Treacle?"

Her brown eyes had darkened and her hair threatened to spring free of it's confines. "You'll be with us. Keeping an eye out for Bella and Peter, of course."

"With only shit spells ter protect meself with?" He ground out, barely holding onto his temper.

Hermione regarded him coolly. "We will protect you."

He laughed bitterly, "forgive me if that don't reassure me, Petal."

"You can Apparate at any time," she said.

"How gracious of yer," he muttered climbing to his feet and storming out of the tent. As he was leaving he heard George say, "What's his problem?" But he was out and running before he heard Hermione's reply.

He ran hard and fast, jumping over rocks and dodging heather. The world around him blurring into one. His heart beat in his chest and his lungs burned fiercely. He only stopped when sweat beaded his face, and each breath he took felt like a knife stabbing his chest.

The tent was an unseen dot on the horizon, hidden by his wards. But he knew where it was. He could feel it. He could feel her. He could also feel the Snatcher inside him screaming out that it was a trap. That danger waited for them at the Revel. He crouched down, seeking to control his gasping breaths.

It was always like this. The very few times he'd ignored his instinct. An itchy, prickly sensation that made his skin want to crawl free of his body. It was worse this time. He suspected, rather sourly, that it was because it wasn't just him that would be attending the Revel, but Hermione also. He honestly didn't understand why they were risking it. A trap was still a trap, even if you knew about it. And their magic was still running low. It was a risk that wasn't worth taking.

He shook his head and sank further onto the floor. It was going to be a long night.

Swinside stone circle was located on the edge of field, next to a single track road. A farmhouse was the only building in sight, but had long since been abandoned. The only witnesses to Scabior, Hermione and George apparating were livestock that dotted the surrounding fields. The others had already arrived and were scattered about, hidden behind various bushes, trees and walls. It was a terrible place to try and preform an ambush. And had the Snatcher in him chaffing in outrage. The moon was full and bright. Casting everything in silver and offering no dark spots to hide in.

Scabior had managed to manoeuvre the three of them to a low wall at the very bottom of the field. The farthest place from the circle that he could manage without Hermione and George protesting. Now all they had to do was wait for the Death Eaters to arrive and start killing them.

"Shove over Granger!" George whispered knocking her into Scabior.

"Will yer be quiet!" Scabior hissed, swapping places with Hermione before they could start bickering. He was already running on his last nerve and hearing them argue back and forth was going to send him over. The need to protect her was growing with each second that passed. And as a result his focus had narrowed, and everything but Hermione and the circle fell away.

Beside him Hermione was jiggling her foot, a nervous habit that he'd have to break her from. Not only did it draw attention but it also irritated him. They had their wands out, ready and pointed towards the circle.

Ten long minutes passed. Scabior spent the time locating the rest of the Aurors and Order members and working out possible escape routes. They weren't any. It was too open. The cover too sparse. The only options were to apparate or portkey out.

Hermione shifted closer, her breath tickled his cheek. "How many Death Eaters do you think will turn up?"

He shrugged, trying to ignore the heat of her pressing against his side. "No clue, Pet." He shifted slightly away from her. Needing to distance himself. He was in Snatcher mode and the scent of Hermione was something he didn't need right now. He needed to focus.

A sharp crack split the air, followed by a second and third. Death Eaters. Scabior narrowed his eyes and studied the three figures wandering the shoulder high stones. They looked seemingly unconcerned, dressed in black robes and chatting to each other. Lies. It was a set up. The crawling skin on his neck told him so.

Several more cracks sounded, louder than before, and more figures appeared. These were carrying human shaped bundles which they dumped on the ground. Scabior tightened his grip on his wand, feeling the tension rise another notch. His breath stilled and he felt the moment the air shifted. He cursed. It was to soon.

He twisted his head towards Hermione but kept his eyes fixed on the Death Eaters. "Be ready."

And suddenly the first curse was thrown, purple light hitting a Death Eater and knocking him against a stone. All hell broke loose. Bright streaks of light flying through the air. Hisses and pops and screams. Shouts sounded and Auror's and Order members rushed the circle. Adding to the confusion.

"Fuckin' idiots," Scabior muttered as more Death Eaters Apparated into the fray, taking the Order member's by surprise. From the corner of his eye he saw George leap over the wall and run towards the fight, firing curses as he went. Hermione followed and his heart clenched.

He scrambled over the loose stone and ran after her. She was fast, running in a zig zag pattern that he approved of. As he followed a few steps behind, he concentrated on producing a shielding charm. Ahead of them George had reached the fight and was firing off hexes and curses at the nearest Death Eaters. Hermione rushed to his side and joined him. She blocked as he attacked. Scabior positioned himself behind them.

Whilst they were busy, he studied the fighting. It was messy. Nobody seeming to have any plan other than to throw whatever they could at the nearest enemy. He did a quick count and frowned. There were more Death Eaters than Order members and Aurors. He scanned again. Watching the spells cast. Dangerous but not deadly. Although the Auror whose legs were twisted back on themselves would probably disagree. And maybe the Death Eater whose eyes were bleeding. Not a single killing curse though. And those were something he knew his fellow Death Eaters were very fond of throwing.

He inched closer to Hermione, intending to whisper his concerns into her ear. But at the moment he did, George leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding a cutting hex. The redhead rolled to the right and away from them. Hermione took a step to follow but Scabior grabbed her around the waist and dropped them to the floor.

"Let go!" She hissed, placing the tip of her wand to his neck.

He brushed it aside. "No," he snapped, shielding the hell out of them, "anythin' strike yer as odd Pretty?"

Hermione instantly stilled beneath him, wide brown eyes turning to take in the chaos. At first she looked worried, flinching as every hex flew. But then a frown appeared, followed swiftly by alarm.

Scabior pressed close, "it aint a trap, Love, it's a distraction."

"From what?" She asked, trying to push him off her. "Let me up! We have to warn them!"

"An tip off the Death Eaters?" He eased off her, but circled her slim wrist with his hand so she couldn't rush off. "The question is, what is it they want ter distract yer from?"

"I don't know!" She threw a hasty knock back hex on the Death Eater who was sneaking up on George.

"There must be somethin,'" Scabior muttered. Watching as various Order member's looked to be weakening but still the Death Eaters didn't finish them off, even though they had the numbers to do so. Suddenly Hermione grabbed a hold of his jacket. He glanced at the witch. She looked panicked and on the verge of tears.

"Harry!" She stumbled to her feet. "Quickly! We have to warn them!" She spun around, "George!" She yelled, but her voice was lost in the chaos.

The redhead didn't hear her, too busy fighting along side his father. "We don't 'ave time, Pet." As he spoke two Death Eaters apparated away.

Hermione's eyes widened, "take us to Grimmauld. Now!"

Scabior dropped his shield, took a firmer hold of her and apparated them away.

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 **Don't forget to let me know what you think!**

 **(You can google Swinside stone circle and it'll bring up some good photos of the location if you're interested)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you to all who continue to read this fic and especially to those wonderful people who review. It means the world to me. (A big thanks to the two guests who left such nice reviews to the last chapter and, Yes, the vote for Hermione's hair is still open.)**

 **The fantastic Brandan Carmihcael was hugely helpful when it came to this chapter and I'm forever grateful for the insight B.C gave me. Cheers!**

 **This is a Bella chapter, so it comes with a big fat warning: Death, blood, and violence abound.**

 **Oh, and I think it's time we met the new Dark Lord, don't you?**

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Chapter Sixteen

At the precise moment Scabior, Hermione and George, were crouching behind the wall near Swinside circle, Bellatrix Lestrange was resting her cheek against the front door of Grimmauld place. She was, once again, polyjuiced to look like Hermione. But this time she felt more comfortable in the Mudblood's skin. It was still disgusting, having to wear her skin, but it didn't chaff quite so much or pull at her bones in quite the same way. She gently placed her hand against the door, fingertips catching on the peeling paint. The wards were humming against her skin, making it vibrate in the most lovingly painful way. She lifted her thumb and tapped, once, softly against the wood.

It was barely a sound at all really. A mere caress that Potter and the Weasley girl wouldn't be able to hear. But Kreacher would. She smiled softly as she waited for the surly elf to open the door. And he would answer. His curiosity would nag at him until he did. If she closed her eyes she could see him, sitting in his dirty cupboard, wringing his hands and wondering who was touching the wards and asking to come in.

Finally, when Bella was seconds away from losing her temper, the handle turned and the door inched open. Bella stepped back, hands clasped behind her, an impish smile stretching her lips.

For a long second, elf and witch regarded each other. Neither speaking, only looking. Then Kreacher bowed low, his ears sweeping down to brush the dusty floor.

"Mistress welcome," he said, turning to the side and allowing Bella to step over the threshold and into the Order member's headquarters.

"Thank you Kreacher." Bella crouched down until her eyes were level with the elf's. "If anyone asks you what happened here tonight, you tell them that you saw Hermione Granger come here and go upstairs." She lifted her hand and patted Kreacher's head. "Can you do that for me?"

The elf grinned. A evil expression that made Bella cackle. "Yes Mistress."

"Good." She pushed to her feet, "now, where is Potter?"

Kreacher pointed to the stairs. "Second floor."

Bella nodded and made her eager way towards the staircase. The shabby carpet muffled her footsteps as she climbed. Her hand trailed along the wall, as she'd used to do as a child when she'd visited. But as a child, Sirius and Andromeda had usually been a few steps behind, following her lead. They weren't behind her now, the filthy blood traitors. Bella's mood soured and a scowl etched itself onto her false face.

When she reached the first floor, she paused, head cocked to the side. The upstairs was silent, apart from the occasional groan the house itself produced when a gust of wind hit the back wall. Bella moved on, easily avoiding the creaking floorboards. She passed one door and then another before she halted. Footsteps, coming towards her. She narrowed her eyes and backed up, easing open one of the bedroom doors and stepping into the darkness. She didn't close it all the way, leaving the smallest of gaps to peek through.

Breath held and wand drawn she waited, eye pressed to the crack. The footsteps got louder. And then the red hair and pale face of Ginny Weasley walked by. Bella snarled, barely holding herself in check. Wanting nothing more than to drop the bitch where she stood. But then her gaze drifted down and she saw the young witch was carrying a pile of clothes and a couple of towels. Off to bathe then. Perfect. She would kill Potter and then pay her a little visit after the boy who lived was dead. A door opened further down the hall and Bella knew it was one of the three located on that floor.

It took several minutes for the pipes to start rumbling. An indication that the water was making its slow way up from the ground. She counted to one hundred. Impatience nipping at her. Tension stiffening her muscles until they shook. When she thought enough time had passed and the Weasley bitch was in the bath, Bella crept out of her hiding spot.

Anticipation made her steps light and quick. She was practically skipping by the time she reached Potter's door, unable to control her manic grin. Her hand was shaking as she reached for the handle. Not from fear, but excitement.

The door swung open and there he was. Harry Potter. Wonderfully illuminated by a single bedside lamp. Bella's lips curved into a delighted smile. He was sleeping. Glasses on the bed next to his hand, wand no where to be seen. Hair a messy black mop atop his head. She almost clapped her hands in glee.

For a moment she just stared at him. Taking in every inch of his vulnerable self. It seemed almost sad that he would die this way. But she would make sure it was a good death. Painful and slow. Another lovely memory to add to her collection

Ever so gently she made her way over to him. Stopping only when her knees touched the mattress. Potter looked deeply asleep. He didn't even stir when she slipped onto the bed and straddled his waist. She put her wand away and replaced it with her knife. She bent down, pressing her nose against his cheek, and the blade against his neck. He smelt of medicine and apples. Clean and fresh.

"Potter," she cooed, resisting the urge to lick him.

His eyelids flicked but didn't open. Bella scowled. He was about to die. The least he could do was wake up for it. She pressed the knife into his skin, a light touch that split his flesh. Not a lot. Not even enough to wake him. But enough to make a thin sliver of blood mark the place. The contrast of the bright red liquid forming beads on his white skin was stunning.

Her eyes stared transfixed. She was so taken with the sight that she didn't even notice when Potter's eyes opened.

"Mione? Is that you?" His sleepy voice was filled with confusion.

Bella grinned. "Yes." She moved the knife back to his throat.

She pressed.

And then...the door opened.

"Hermione? What are you doing?" Ginny spoke from the doorway.

Bella swung towards her and bared her teeth. The Weasley witch drew her wand and pointed it at Bella's chest.

"Get off him!" She hissed, slowly easing into the room.

Bella titled her head. Using the motion to disguise the hand that reached for her wand. She almost had it, when Potter bucked, throwing her off and to the ground. She rolled, grasping for her wand.

A hex hit the wall behind her, leaving a dark smudge behind. She cursed, keeping low and crawling nearer to the bed. Before they could get the upper hand she threw several spells over the top of the mattress. Managing to hit Potter with a stunner. With him out of the way she could concentrate on the Weasley bitch.

A cackle bubbled up from her throat. "Shall we play little girl?"

Silence. But she could see the redhead's panicked breaths. It was music to her ears. She peeked over the edge of the mattress. Ginny was outside the room. But Bella knew exactly where she was, she could see the edge of her top peeping around the doorway.

"I'm going to kill Potter slowly, what do you think of that? Shall I make you watch?" She eased forward as she taunted the girl. Wanting her to panic and make a mistake.

"You won't touch him!" Ginny yelled, darting around the door and firing hexes as she ran towards the stunned Potter.

It was exactly what Bella wanted. "Confundo! Impedimenta! Sectumsempra!" She threw the curses one after another. Each designed to prevent the redhead from returning fire. The first two were blocked, the third slipped through the girls defences. Slashing her chest to the bone. A bright arc of blood flew though the air, splashing against Bella's face, the wall, and Potter. It was warm and when she darted out her tongue to lick it from her lips, salty. Ginny screamed and Bella laughed.

"Crucio!" She yelled as the girl fell to the ground. Giving her no time to respond or shield.

Bella held the curse until the redhead was a shuddering pathetic mess, lifting it only long enough to reach down and take Ginny's wand. She snapped it in two. The crack was loud in the silent room, then she dropped it on the floor. A sneer wrinkled her nose as she looked at the witch's quivering form. She was fighting for breath and red-speckled foam coated her lips. Blood pooled on the floor beneath her, seeping into the puddle of piss the Crucio had caused. Bella could count each of the ribs exposed by the Diffindo curse. White against red.

Bella flicked her eyes towards Potter. He was still out, his eye staring sightlessly at the ceiling. As innocent as a babe and oh so easy to kill. But she was only allowed to kill one of them. The Dark Lord had told her so. She pouted as she stared at Potter. Apart from the tiny cut marring his neck, he was uninjured. Her eyes drifted back to the Weasley bitch. She was still moaning and quivering. Her body suffering from the aftershocks of the Crucio cast upon her.

Bella sighed in annoyance. She'd wanted to kill Potter. Why on earth couldn't the stupid cow have stayed in the bath? Unless...Bella glanced down, noticing the redhead was still dressed. She hadn't been intending to have a bath then. Maybe just washing her hands after cleaning Potter. Which made sense now that Bella thought of it. She wasn't likely to be lounging in a nice warm bath, whilst her family were risking their lives attacking the Revel. That wasn't something people who cared for others did.

Bella shrugged and applied another round of Crucio on the girl. More out of spite than any real desire to torture her. She held it for ten seconds before allowing it to fizzle out. It really was a pity she couldn't kill Potter. It was all she'd been dreaming of since learning of the Order's Headquarters. She frowned and pressed the toe of her shoe against the Weasley girl's ribs. They gave under the pressure. Broken and most likely puncturing the girl's lungs. It would explain the wet rasp her breathing had become.

No other option then. The girl was too damaged. Bella reached down to pluck a piece of Ginny's broken wand from the floor.

"This really is a disappointment for me," she said softly as she jammed the splintered wood into Ginny's throat. The young witch gurgled, an interesting sound that Bella would ordinarily have enjoyed. But not this time. How could she when she felt cheated? It was supposed to be the light leaving Potter's eyes, not those of this interfering little bint's.

Mood now soured, Bella straightened and stomped out of the room. She needed to leave before the real Hermione arrived. It would be soon, if the Dark Lord's plan had succeeded. A smile graced her lips at the carnage that awaited Granger and the rest of the Order. It would almost be worth getting caught to see the look on their faces. Almost but not quite.

Bella retraced her steps, along the hall, back down the sweeping staircase and across the shabby carpet. When she reached the door, she paused.

"Remember what I said Kreacher. Hermione Granger visited Potter," she called out, knowing that the elf would hear her voice, no matter where in the house he was hiding.

Before leaving she took in a lungful of dust-scented air. It was a smell reminiscent of her childhood. One that she had only blurry memories of now. Azkaban and the Dementors had seen to that.

She softly closed the door to Grimmauld Place and made her way past the wards. As soon as she'd cleared them she disapparated.

The safe house was empty when she arrived. Silent and dark. Just the way she liked it to be. For a while she sat on a lumpy chair, absorbing the emptiness, head furrowed in concentration. And then she had it. That sound. That wonderful gurgled gasp, that managed to quiet down the voices shouting for her attention. She would add it to her collection. The Mudblood's screams, Sirius' yelp, and now Ginny's gasp. Her head tilted as she recalled each one in turn. Beautiful. Like her own private lullaby. As she lost herself in the broken sounds, she began to hum and sway.

Bella was hardly aware when the Dark Lord arrived. Still immersed in her private world of horror. It was only when the candles flared to life that she realized that she wasn't alone. Her eyes blinked at the sudden light.

"Is it done?" The Dark Lord's voice reached her ears.

Bella immediately sank to her knees, "Yes, my Lord." Her lips squeezed into a pout, "but I wasn't able to kill Potter, the Weasley bitch got in the way."

"No matter," he said reaching forward to examine a strand of Bella's still polyjuiced hair. "As long as this," he tugged roughly on the curl, "Hermione, was seen by the survivor." He flicked his gaze to Bella. "Was she?"

Bella nodded. "Yes, Potter saw me, and I told the house elf to tell the Order he watched Hermione Granger enter the house and Potter's room."

"That's goodh" He said dropping his hand.

"And the Revel. It went as predicted?" She asked clapping her hands and rising to face him, eager anticipation stamped all over her features.

A look of contempt crossed the Dark Lord's face. "It did. We were able to separate Hermione and the Snatcher from the rest until they figured out who the real target was." He glanced fastidiously at his fingers, "Hermione should be at Grimmauld Place as we speak."

Bella grinned in delight and quickly twirled around. "And Kingsley doesn't suspect you?"

"Why would he? I'm merely a Auror." He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile.

Bella froze, eyes narrowing in fury, "You are NOT merely an Auror," she hissed. "You are brilliant and devious and far superior too anyone else in this world." She swayed forward and brushed blood speckled fingers against his cheek tenderly, "You are my son and your father was Lord Voldemort. And when the time comes the world will fall to its knees and weep before you."

Pippit's face lost all expression. "Do you think I need you to tell me that? I know what I am and what I will become." His voice oozed arrogance, "and what have I told you before about touching me." He stared at Bella coolly until she backed away. "Do not make me repeat myself."

She shook her head and dropped her eyes in shame. "I'm sorry, my Lord. It will not happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Pippit said, watching as her hair began to darken and her features melted back into those of his mother. "I'll allow you this once to choose your own punishment, but the next time, I will not be so generous."

"My Lord," Bella sank to her knees, arms circling her body. "The Cruciatus curse, please."

Pippit withdrew his wand and pointed at Bella.

"Crucio," he said, voice bland and eyes flat and without emotion.

Bella's screams filled the room.

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 **As of next week I'll be updating twice weekly, maybe Friday's and Sunday's, but the days aren't fixed yet so I might swap it about.**

 **Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A longer chapter than usual, I hope you all enjoy it.**

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Chapter Seventeen

Hermione clung to scabior as they disapparated to Grimmauld Place. She was trembling badly by this time. Adrenalin and fear clutching her heart. Her head a jumbled panicked mess. As soon as they landed, she pushed the Snatcher away, catching him by surprise. He lunged for her but she was already shoving open the door and running into the house.

"Harry!" She yelled, not pausing to hear a response, but stumbling to the stairs. Her legs felt like jelly.

The door crashed open behind her, "Ermione!" Scabior's voice, tight with anger.

She ignored him, concentrating on making her legs move. Not once in her life had she had trouble with stairs before. But she did now. Her feet just wouldn't go at the speed she wanted them to. Still, she reached the top before Scabior could catch her.

"Wait!" He snarled.

It was almost enough to make her stop. To let her brain catch up. To let her think. But when she looked down the hall and saw Harry's door open, his light pooling on the carpet, everything inside her shut down. Her wand was drawn and pointed, clasped in a sweaty hand.

"Harry?" Her voice wavered.

No answer.

And suddenly she was in the doorway. Blood. She saw blood first. Then Ginny. A broken doll on the floor. Her eyes skittered away and landed on the bed. On Harry. He wasn't moving and she could see a line of blood trickling down his neck. She froze. That was when Scabior arrived, almost crashing into the back of her. His eyes swept the room, taking in every detail. It took no longer than a second.

Hermione jumped as he shouldered past her. The breath stilled in her lungs when he strode over to Harry. She didn't blink when he reached down and pressed his fingers to the pulse point on Harry's neck.

"He's alive. Stunned I reckon," he said settling his inky gaze on her.

Relief surged through her. So sudden she thought she might pass out. It was quickly replaced by horror as her gaze dropped to Ginny. She rushed forward and fell to her knees beside the redhead. Blood seeped into her jeans, but she didn't care. All her attention was fixed on Ginny's blue eyes. They stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

Hermione forced her eyes to travel down Ginny's body, taking in her injuries. A broken wand protruded from her throat, blood still leaking from the entry point. A large slash parted the skin on the left side of her chest, exposing the ribs and muscle beneath.

A broken sob left Hermione's throat, caught in the cupped hand she pressed to her mouth. She reached down to take Ginny's hand. It was still warm.

Her eyes rose to meet Scabior's. He looked...blank. As if he couldn't decide what expression to wear. She opened her mouth to speak. To say...something. But the sound of the floo activating halted her words. A breath left her lungs and she switched her gaze to the door.

Murmured voices and then rushing footsteps. Molly Weasley appeared. A scream left her throat.

"Get away from her!" Molly ran into the room and gathered Ginny into her arms, pushing Hermione away.

"I'm so sorry." Hermione scrambled backwards. Away from the weeping Molly.

"No!" Arthur entered the room, followed by George and Kingsley. "Who did this to my baby girl?"

A pop sounded as Kreacher apparated to the centre of the room. He pointed a gnarly finger at Hermione. "The filthy Mudblood did it."

Hermione shook her head in confusion, "No! I didn't do anything! He's lying."

The elf sneered, "Kreacher not lying. Kreacher saw Mudblood come to house." He threw a sly look at Hermione. "Ask the Master," he said.

"You did this!" Molly hissed.

"No!" Hermione yelled, "I couldn't have, I was with you at the Revel."

Molly narrowed her eyes. "You left before us."

Hermione felt her heart clench. She looked desperately at Scabior. His eyes flicked around the room uneasily.

Kingsley stepped forward. "Now wait. Let's see what Harry has to say."

Hermione switched her attention to George. He was sitting on the floor, head resting on his knees, sobbing. Arthur was next to Molly, holding her as she held Ginny.

A muttered spell from Kingsley had Harry stirring. Hermione pulled herself up and took a step towards him. She was about to take another when Scabior pressed against her.

"Somethin' off about this Love, we need ter go." His voice was spoken into her ear. Softy so only she could hear.

"Harry?" Kingsley's deep voice questioned, "what happened here?"

Hermione tried to ease passed Scabior, who was slowly manoeuvring them towards the door.

"Harry, tell me who did this," Kingsley said.

Harry coughed, "Mione," he choked out.

A deadly silence fell.

Every eye turned to the white-faced Hermione. She shook her head in denial. An endless moment passed in which no one moved. And then Molly let loose a feral scream and drew her wand.

Hermione heard Scabior curse as he shoved her towards the door. They landed on the carpeted hall, a tangle of limbs. A curse flew after them missing by no more than an inch.

"Up!" Scabior snapped, drawing his wand and firing off some defensive spells. "Now, Ermione."

Hermione scrambled to her feet, narrowly avoiding a stinging hex. She raised her wand and fired off a harmless fog producing spell. It wasn't much but it gave them enough time to scuttle down the stairs. Once they reached the bottom, Molly and Arthur were at the top. Wands drawn.

"Go!" Hermione screamed at Scabior, aware that he couldn't really defend himself properly. He ignored her, grabbing the back of her jumper and tugging her backwards. A hex flew towards her. She flicked her wand managing to shield at the last minute. But she couldn't defend against them both. The two grief stricken Weasley's fired curse after curse, aiming to separate them and cut off their escape route.

Beyond them she could see Kingsley muttering a containment spell. If he succeeded they'd be trapped, unable to escape. She shot a desperate look at Scabior, he was holding his own, but the jelly leg jinxes and sticking charms, weren't doing anything but making the Weasley's mad.

She backed towards the door, avoiding a knock back hex at the last moment. They were making progress, just a few feet from the door when the floo spat out Ron, and then a second later Bill.

They stood frozen, eyes wide.

"She killed Ginny!" Molly shrieked.

Bill was the first to move, drawing his wand and firing at Scabior. He managed to block that one but not the bone braking curse Arthur fired at him. His arm snapped with a loud crack.

Hermione backed up into him, steering him towards the door. As she was moving, she cast a shield, pouring her magic into it making as strong as she could. It held off the worst, but a few stray curses made it through. Nothing deadly. But painful enough they made her hiss and stumble.

Behind her she felt Scabior nudge the door open. Cool air hit her skin, they scrambled down the stairs and passed the wards. At first they didn't let them pass. Kingsley's containment spell beginning to fuse with the house wards. But they pushed, forcing their way through the jellylike air until they sprang free. The Snatcher looped his arm around her waist and apparated them away.

It was risky. With them both carrying injuries but they didn't have any other choice. Thankfully they didn't splinch themselves as they emerged into darkness and landed on cool hard ground. Neither of them was standing.

Hermione groaned and rolled over. She knocked into Scabior making him hiss.

"Oh." She sat up, "Lumos!"

Scabior was laying down, clutching his arms to his side and cursing. "Let me look," she said.

"Don't need to look at it Pet, it's broke," he muttered sourly.

Hermione sighed at his petulance. "Where are we?"

"Little hide away I got tucked away,"

Hermione looked around, spotting a lopsided shepherd's hut a little way away. "Give me your arm," She ordered, not waiting for him to offer it to her, but taking it, "Episkey! Episkey! Episkey!" she said running her wand up and down his arm. It snapped back into place with a loud crack.

"Fuck!" Scabior hissed, throwing her a dirty look.

She ignored him, running her wand up and down his body to check for other injuries.

He pushed it away, "I'm fine. No thanks to yer precious friends!" He spat, face twisted in distaste.

Hermione stilled sinking back onto her knees, ignoring the cut on her leg and the burn that circled her ankle. She felt numb. When she closed her eyes she saw Ginny's body. And blood. So much blood. She didn't realize she was crying until, Scabior's finger's brushed across her cheek. Her eyes opened and she gazed at him pleadingly. His face wore a frown that ordinarily would have made her smile. Not now.

She didn't know who was more surprised when she launched herself at him. Hermione or Scabior. It certainly didn't stop him from wrapping his arms around her and drawing her against his chest. He was murmuring something that she couldn't hear. Something low and ultimately meaningless. She was barely aware of his unexpected tenderness, so lost in the grief of losing Ginny.

If only they'd left the Revel sooner. Or hadn't gone at all. Then Ginny would still be alive. She shook her head in confusion. Why had Harry and Kreacher said they'd seen her? She didn't understand. Another sob caught in her throat and she forced it out. Her breath huffing against Scabior's neck.

"Who was it?" she pushed her hands against his chest, fire whiskey eyes staring at him pleadingly.

Scabior lifted his hand, curling it around her neck, "we'll find out Love." He pulled her back towards him, tucking her curly head under his chin and breathing in her scent.

They sat like that for a while. Hermione slowly sinking back into the familiar numbness that had been her constant companion after the battle. She sighed, wiping at her wet cheeks and only then realizing how close she was to the Snatcher. Their chests were pressed together, and she could feel the steady thump of his heart. One hand was resting across the small of her back, the other holding the nape of her neck, his thumb drawing small circles onto her skin.

"Yer bleedin' Love," Scabior said softly.

Hermione frowned, "am I?"

He hummed in answer. "Come on, my turn ter play Healer." He shifted Hermione away from him and climbed to his feet, "I would carry yer, Kitten, but my arm's fuckin' killin' me."

Hermione grimaced, flicking her concerned gaze over his arm. It wasn't broken anymore, she'd seen to that, but it was probably badly bruised and the muscles surrounding the bone would be damaged. She stood on wobbly legs, hissing when her right foot bore her weight. Scabior reached out to steady her but she brushed his hand off. Not sure she wanted to encourage his casual touches. Not sure it was safe to. Already her body was beginning to crave the warmth and safety his arms offered. His fingers...she refused to think about what his fingers could make her feel.

She followed him to the shepherd's hut, taking the opportunity to look around as he fumbled with his wand and unlocked the door. They were in an overgrown field. It was dark. Too dark to make out any real details. But she could see the darker shadows of trees on two sides of them. When she cocked her head, she could hear the trickle of water somewhere behind them.

"Beautiful?"

Hermione almost fell over when Scabior's voice seeped into her ear. He was close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. She backed up, only a few steps, but enough so that she didn't feel crowded.

Scabior's lips tightened in annoyance, "after you, Pet." He bowed mockingly, sweeping his uninjured arm towards the hut.

Hermione's brow rumpled but she didn't comment, only shuffled past him, up the three rickety steps and into the candlelit hut. It was...cosy. One side was taken up with a narrow bed, the other a small round table peppered with candles, and finally a hard-backed chair. If she stretched out her hands they would touch the walls on either side.

"Sit," Scabior ordered from the door.

Hermione dithered for a moment. Chair or bed? The Snatcher huffed out a breath, "any time tonight will do."

She sat on the chair. Her eyes falling to study the floor. This was the first time they'd been alone since he'd made her come on the moor. She felt oddly shy. Which was stupid because only minutes ago she'd been wrapped in his arms. But then she remembered Ginny and all of her confusing emotions regarding Scabior faded into dust. She should be with Harry and Ron. Not hidden away from them cowering as if she was guilty.

Two booted feet came into view. Mud-caked and cracked with use. She blinked, "You need some more," she said absently.

"More what, Treasure?" Scabior said taking a seat opposite her on the bed. He'd taken off his jacket and waistcoat, leaving him clad in a snow-white shirt. His eyebrow was raised in question.

Hermione belatedly pointed at his boots.

"Nah, I got 'em just 'ow I want 'em," he said, reaching down to pick up Hermione's leg.

She winced as the motion pulled her cut skin apart and stung the burn on her ankle. It helped to keep her mind on the present and away from the urge to jump up and return to Grimmauld Place. Which she desperately wanted to do. But even in her confused state she knew that going back right now would mean her death. The hexes and curses Molly and Arthur had been throwing were meant to cause serious harm. The only thing that had saved them had been the magic that the Weasley's had wasted at the Revel.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Scabior gently tucking up her jeans, he stopped just below her knee. Her shin was covered in blood pulsing from a gash at least four inches long. Now that she could see it, her pain receptors came to life and she hissed in a breath.

"Bugger, that hurts!" She whimpered.

Scabior shook his head at her sissy swear and began to undo the buttons at the wrist of his shirt. Hermione watched as he neatly folded up the sleeves, all the way up to the elbow, revealing his Dark Mark. Her gaze snagged on it, transfixed. She'd never seen one up close before. It was bigger and more detailed than she expected. The snake emerging from the skulls mouth and forming a figure of eight. Even faded to a stormy grey, she could make out the individual scales the snake wore. She longed to reach out and touch it. Just to see if it felt different from the rest of his skin. Scabior flipped his arm over, obscuring her view of the mark as he untied her boot and tugged it off. Her sock followed quickly after.

"Ow," she hissed as the cool air hit the burn making it sting unbearably. How on earth had George bore the pain when his entire chest had been scolded?

Scabior ignored her reaching for his wand. When she saw him about to cast she fisted her hands and closed her eyes. Chill water drizzled onto her skin, washing the blood away and cooling the burn. The breath she was holding released and she risked a peek. The Snatcher was bending over her, so all she could see was the top of his head and the line of his nose.

"Got anythin' useful in yer bag of tricks Love?" He asked placing her foot on the mattress between his legs and looking up to regard her flushed face.

"Umm...yeah. I've got some dittany and more burn lotion, I think," she said as she rooted around the tiny beaded bag that never left her side. Her hand shook as she ruffled about, agitated at the sight of her pale foot so close to his groin. If she moved her toes the slightest bit, she'd be touching him.

Finally her fingers closed around the case holding the lotions she kept for emergencies. She withdrew it and passed it to Scabior, not trusting her shaking hands not to drop it. He took it with a slight smirk that made her frown. How could he find this amusing when her life was crumbling around her? She bit her lip and turned her face to the side, staring at the wall without blinking.

"Ready?" Scabior said a slight edge to his voice.

She nodded. He used the dittany first, dripping it onto the cut. Hermione almost bit her lip in two when her skin began to knit back together. It bloody well hurt. And she couldn't prevent the whimper that crawled up her throat.

"Okay?" He said.

Hermione repeated her nod. Listening as he set the bottle back in the case. His cool fingers brushed her leg and she shuddered.

"Ave I done somethin' to upset yer, Love?" He said drawing patterns on her skin.

"No," she said flatly.

"Ah." He removed his fingers and she heard the clink of glass, "yer sure about that?"

Hermione twisted back around to face him, his was looking at her coolly, expression blank, inky eyes dark. For a moment she thought about ignoring him. Asking him why he wanted to know. Why he cared.

"I didn't like it when you smirked," she said, "You might not care that my friend is-" Her voice wavered and she found she couldn't say it. "You might not care, but I do," she said instead.

Scabior narrowed his eyes, "Yer right. I don't care." He opened the lid on a burn potion and splattered some on her ankle, "but I never meant to 'urt yer."

Hermione felt the truth of his words sink into her chest. Every thought tripping through her head, stopped. And she knew in that instance, that whatever it was that she was feeling, he was feeling it as well. She shook her head. Now wasn't the time for whatever this...thing...was between them.

Her eyes tracked his hand as he smeared the lotion onto her ankle. The Dark Mark showing when he rubbed the back of her leg. He was taking longer than she knew he needed to.

"I think that's enough," she muttered pulling her foot from his grip. The floor was cool and gritty beneath her skin. She watched beneath her lashes as he gathered up the case and passed it back to her. She took it, withdrawing a pain potion.

"Here." She passed him the small brown glass bottle. "It'll help your arm," she added when he made no move to take it.

A long second passed. One in which she was sure he wasn't going to take it. But then he reached across, fingers touching hers as he took the bottle. He flicked the cork, lifted the potion and swallowed a mouthful.

"Now you," he said passing it back to her.

Hermione hesitated, not wanting to take any. She hated the way it made her feel drowsy and one step behind herself. "I'm okay," she whispered.

He didn't believe her. But she didn't care, she wanted to feel the pain. She needed to feel it. The pulsating sting connected her to Harry and Ron. It was only right. They were in pain, and now so was she.

"It's gettin' late Love, we should sleep," Scabior said, standing to hang his jacket and waistcoat on the hook on the back of the door.

Hermione watched him suspiciously. Surely he didn't expect them to share the bed. He turned back to her, all cocky arrogance. "You first Pretty, I don't like bein' by the wall. Makes me feel trapped."

She didn't move from her seat. "I'm not sharing a bed with you."

"Why not?"

"You know why," she said, dropping her gaze to her foot.

"I ain't gonna touch yer tonight, Love." he said dropping down onto the bed, "Yer 'eads messed up right now, and yer not gonna accuse me of takin' advantage of yer."

Hermione frowned, "I wouldn't do that." she said, "and what makes you think anything would happen between us anyway."

Scabior swung forwards, dipping his head to meet her eyes. "Now, Love, no lies between us. You and I got somethin' goin' on. I can't say that I like it, or even that I know what it is, but it's somethin'"

Denial clogged in the back of Hermione's throat. She wanted to tell him that he was delusional. That he was seeing something that wasn't there. But it wouldn't be true, because she felt it too. But what most surprised her was that he was the one acknowledging it. If she didn't know any better she would have suspected him of being a Gryffindor.

"Regardless, I still won't share with you." She pulled in a steadying breath, "Just take the bed. I don't feel like sleeping anyway."

"Yer sure?"

Hermione nodded.

Scabior spent a few moments shifting about before laying back and lounging on the bed. Even the way he did that was insufferable. All loose limbs and casual grace. He patted the small slice of mattress next to him, "Plenty of room if yer change yer mind."

"I won't," Hermione said, twisting to blow out all of the candles but one. The setting immediately became more intimate. But she refused to think of it, instead tipping her head back to rest on the rough wooden slats. She closed her eyes against the flickering light. Aware of the Snatcher's attention fixed on her. It pressed like a weight, heavy and heated. Lasting for the space of one hundred and five breaths. Hermione knew because she counted each one.

When she dared a peek, she saw him sleeping. A combination of the pain relieving potion and sleeping draught she'd laced it with. For a while she stared at him. Wondering what it was that so fascinated her. He was striking rather than handsome and his personality left a lot to be desired, but he had something about him that made her insides churn and her heart speed up. She fell into a fitful sleep still pondering the puzzle he presented.

Something woke her. A sound or a brush of air. Or maybe just the odd angle her head was tilted at. But something. Hermione opened her eyes to see the silvery glow of a Patronus crouched by the door. It was only half formed, faded and indistinguishable. She flicked a glance at Scabior. Still asleep. She sat up, wincing at the sharp pain that stabbed through her neck. As soon as she moved the silvery mist rippled to life.

"Granger, come to Grimmauld Place, Harry wants to see you," George's rough voice emerged from the Patronus.

Hermione froze. Eyes wide as the Patronus fizzled away. She looked once again at the Snatcher. His eyes were closed but he was frowning, as if something had disturbed his dreams. She held her breath, praying that he wouldn't wake. There was no way in hell he'd let her go. Her mind worked frantically. It could be a trap. But she didn't think so. George wouldn't do that to her. At least she hoped he wouldn't. Besides it had all been a mistake.

As quietly as she could she reached down to put on her sock and boot. She slowly stood, hesitating before deciding to leave her bag behind. It would let Scabior know that she intended to come back. She need not leave a note, he'd know where it was she'd gone. If she wasn't arrested and put in Azkaban that is. She shook her head. That wouldn't happen. And if it did, well, she'd simply demand that they use veritaserum on her. That way they'd know she wasn't lying.

Carefully, so as not wake Scabior, she tiptoed out of the hut. Thankfully he didn't wake. The air was cool on her face as she walked away from the hut. Once sure she was far enough away that the Snatcher wouldn't hear the pop of apparation, Hermione clenched her fists and disaparated to Grimmauld Place.

The house was silent and dark. For a long second she just stared, unable to make her legs move. Then she shook her head, dredged up some Gryffindor courage and marched up the steps. If this was a trap, then sneaking wouldn't help her anyway. The door opened silently and Hermione stood on the threshold blinking into the dark.

"George?" She called softly, quivering but determined to face whatever happened. She kept her hands away from her wand.

Silence for the count of five and then a small thump. Footsteps coming towards her. Hermione closed her eyes.

"Granger?" George's voice wobbled in the dark.

Her eyes flew open. George was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Arms wrapped around his torso. She stumbled towards him, drawing him into a hug. She could feel his tears on her neck.

"I'm so sorry George. I promise it wasn't me," she said, struggling with her own tears.

"I know. Harry knows." He drew away, scrubbing his hand across his cheeks. "Come on." He held her hand as he tugged her up the stairs.

"Where is everyone?" She asked.

"Mum, dad and Kingsley are at the Ministry. They've taken Ginny to be examined." His voice broke, "mum wouldn't leave her."

Hermione brushed her hand over his back, "Shh. You're Mum's strong, she'll be okay."

George nodded, "Bill went home and Ron's in his room." He gave her a guilty look, "Harry said to give him something to make him sleep."

Hermione bobbed her head, aware that she was beginning to shake. They were getting closer to Harry's room. She could see it. At the end of the corridor. The door was closed.

"We moved him, he's in Sirius' old room now," George said, noticing her panicked look.

She breathed out a sigh. She didn't think she'd ever be able to go into that room again. Or even near it really. Thankfully she wouldn't have to, Sirius' room was just a few feet away. When they stopped in front of it she had to stop for a moment. Needing to collect herself. She wanted to be strong for Harry. She was not going to cry.

George raised his eyebrows, "You ready?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. She was not going to cry.

The door swung open. Harry was lying on the bed. Eyes red rimmed and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She burst into tears. A sob left Harry's throat at the sight of her. She ran to him gathering him into her arms.

"It's my fault, Mione. I couldn't protect her," he said into the bend of her neck.

Hermione pushed him away. "Don't you dare say that Harry Potter! It was not your fault," she said. Fresh tears filled his eyes and she pulled him into her arms again. "It wasn't your fault."

Between gasping breaths she muttered the same nonsense words that Scabior had whispered to her only hours ago. They stayed like that for a while, Hermione reaching back at one point to grab George's hand, taking comfort in each other.

Then Harry pulled back. "I know it wasn't you." His voice was rough, gravelly. "But whoever it was looked like you."

Hermione's stomach clenched in fear, "polyjuice?"

George stepped forward, "we think so. Kingsley does to." He pointed a finger at Harry's neck, "know anyone whose fond of knives?"

The blood left her face and she pushed Harry's head aside to look at the small cut gracing the side of his neck. "Bella," she hissed.

Harry nodded. "We think so," he exchanged a glance with George, "we need to be sure though."

"And how will we do that?" she asked looking back and forth between them.

"Kreacher." Harry said, his tone hardening.

Hermione clutched Harry's hand, "can you make him tell the truth."

George patted her back. "He's Harry's elf. He has to answer whatever question Harry asks truthfully. He won't be able to stop himself."

"Okay." Hermione adjusted herself on the bed so her shoulder brushed Harry's. "Call him," she said fiercely.

Harry drew in a shuddery breath, "Kreacher," he called out.

A loud pop sounded and the elf stood in the middle of the room. He was both sneering and smirking at the same time.

"Who killed Ginny?" Harry yelled, his face flushed red with rage.

Kreacher's eyes narrowed. "The Mudblood," he spat out glaring hatefully at Hermione.

George rushed forward and kicked the elf hard enough that he fell to the ground. Hermione folded her lips against the protest that threatened to fall from her lips. This once she wouldn't say anything. Even if deep down she wanted to.

"Just ask him if it was Bella," Hermione whispered to Harry.

"Kreacher? Was it Bella polyjuiced to look like Hermione?" Harry said.

The elf grit his teeth, body twitching as he tried to fight the urge to answer. He wouldn't be able to. It was only a matter of time before the answer popped free. Beside her Harry's hand fisted in the sheet.

"I won't ask you again! Answer me!" He yelled.

A muscle began to pulse in the elf's forehead. "Yes," he belched out.

George swore and made to kick the elf again, but Kreacher disappeared before his foot could connect.

"How the hell did she get my hair?" Hermione muttered.

Harry thumped the sheet. "It doesn't matter. She has it," his breath hissed in and out, "now what are we going to do about it?"

George thumped down on the bed next to Hermione. "We keep it between us for starters."

"Why?" Harry said, green eyes flashing in anger.

Hermione nodded, "George is right, Harry. We're no closer to catching Bella and right now she has polyjuice and my hair. She's a danger to the Order. It's best if everyone believes that it was me under the Imperius."

"But..."

"No buts Harry. The order will see my face and fire first, but if they don't know whether it's me or Bella they're facing, then they'll hesitate and Bella will have the upper hand." She nibbled her lip.

George nodded, "Agreed. You need to be careful though, Granger."

"I will." Hemione turned to face Harry. "We can't tell Ron either. He wouldn't be able to keep it a secret."

Harry grimaced, "I know, that's why we slipped him the potion to begin with."

Hermione got up, "you can't stay here Harry. It's to dangerous."

"McGonagall's having him moved to Hogwarts with Ron," George said. "The rest of us are moving to Shell cottage."

Hermione frowned, "you should be there now."

Harry swayed forward, "Bella could have killed me at anytime, she wanted me to see you Mione. She wanted you to take the blame. She won't come back here."

George scoffed. "The stupid cow thought we'd believe you did it."

"Ron does, you're parents do," she said in a small voice.

They didn't have anything to say to that. Eventually Hermione got up from the bed, "I should go."

"No!" Harry scrambled forward to grab her hand, "stay with me, just a bit longer. Please Hermione."

The curly haired witch hesitated. It wasn't safe. But when she looked at Harry's tear streaked face she knew she would stay as long as he needed her to. She climbed back onto the bed and held him as fresh tears began to fall. When he fell into a fitful sleep she continued to hold him. She was hardly aware when George left the room, sleep dragging at her. Her eyes closed and even though she tried, she couldn't make them open again.

* * *

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	18. Chapter 18

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Chapter Eighteen

Scabior woke up to an empty hut. Hermione was gone. The single lit candle was down to a flickering stub. Panic seized his heart as his eyes fixed on the chair where she should have been. He checked for her sock and found that it, as well as her boot was missing. The small beaded bag she constantly carried was still there, tucked beneath the table. A breath eased out of him. She'd intended on returning then. She'd never have left it behind if she didn't. Pity the curly-haired bint didn't know where his hut was located.

He ruffled a hand through his hair in irritation. She was going to be the death of him. Almost had been a few times already. Of course he knew where she'd gone. Grimmauld Place. For a brief second he considered leaving her to whatever fate threw at her. Letting the Order take her from him. But he was in too deep now. His heart had betrayed him and planted itself in Hermione's small hand.

Climbing to his feet, Scabior shrugged on his waistcoat and jacket, wincing when the action pulled at the muscle in his arm. Fucking Weasley's. Firing curses at him when he was helping them. Well, helping her. The last thing he did before leaving the hut was check his wand.

It was the back end of morning. That time when the sky was a deep purple and the air smelt untouched. Any other day he would have lingered, letting the coming dawn soothe him. But not today. Today he had to retrieve his stray witch from her own stupidity.

Disaparating to Grimmauld Place took seconds. Getting through the wards took longer. He cursed as they sparked and spat at his attempts to bring them down. Ten minutes passed before he felt them drop. And he suspected that was only because they recognised that he'd been allowed through before.

Regardless, he was in, and he didn't pause as he opened the door and crossed the threshold. The house was quiet. He stopped only long enough to listen to his instinct. Safe. The magic he could sense was calm and inactive. He drew in a Snatcher's breath. Hermione was upstairs.

As he made his way upstairs, his temper began to fray. What the hell had she been thinking coming back here? He snarled when he saw George sleeping outside the door he presumed Hermione was hidden away behind.

"Fuckin' idiot," he muttered kicking Weasley as he stepped over him to reach the door.

"Unnh." George yelped, jumping to his feet and reaching for his wand.

Scbaior had already passed him and was in the room. Hermione was in the bed. Curled around Potter. He sneered. Jealousy filling his gut. She'd sleep next to Potter but not him would she?

George crossed the room to stand next to the bed. "You need to keep her somewhere safe for a few days," the redhead whispered.

Scabior pulled his gaze from the witch. "Yer know who did it then," he stated flatly.

"Bella. Polyjuiced," George spat.

"Shame yer didn't figure that out before the curses started flyin'," Scabior said, dismissing George and walking towards the bed. Hermione looked to be in a deep sleep. Her arm placed on Potter's chest, her curly head resting on his shoulder. His jealousy increased, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

A soft sigh left Hermione and it stirred him into action. It should be him that she was sighing against. He leant down, scooping her away from Potter and into his arms. The strain on his injured arm made him clench his jaw, but he refused to wake her.

"Tell Granger I'll be in touch," George said following as Scabior made his way out of Grimmauld Place. "And tell her to be careful."

The Snatcher sneered. "As if she'd listen," he muttered, leaving the house behind. "Do somethin' about yer wards," he called over his shoulder, before disapparating them away.

Hermione stirred and he held his breath willing her to remain asleep. When she once again settled, he walked them back to the hut, kicking the door open with his foot. A muttered word lit a few candles, and he carefully lowered her onto the narrow bed. She twisted away, tucking her hands under her cheek and facing the wall. He smirked. Just where he wanted her.

He was tempted to join her. But he didn't want to fuck up whatever it was they had. And he knew her well enough by now, to know she wouldn't be impressed if she woke up next to him. She wasn't ready for that yet.

Scabior shook his head. He'd turned into a bloody sissy. Worrying about feelings and shit. Turning away from the slumbering witch, he retreated to the steps to collect his thoughts. He needed to work out what to do about Bella. And what he should tell Hermione that he could do. It would mean revealing more of himself than he was comfortable with, but it was either that or let Bella fuck up Hermione. And he knew that from now on, that he would be the only one that did any fucking with her.

Dawn came and went and still the witch slept on. Scabior was getting tetchy and hungry. But he didn't want to leave and risk her waking whilst he was gone. Another hour passed and he was fed up with listening to his stomach rumble. So he did the only thing he could think of. He made some noise. A lot of noise. Enough noise to wake Hermione up.

He knew the exact moment she woke. She gasped. Then grumbled. And then stumbled out of the hut glaring.

"Well?" She snapped.

Scabior resisted the urge to grin, clearly Miss Granger was not a morning person. "I collected yer early mornin' Treacle."

The glare left her face, "was Harry okay?"

The Snatcher shrugged. "Dunno, he was still asleep."

Hermione's face dropped. "He'll wonder where I am," she whispered.

"Nah. He's got people around him," he said taking a sly look at her while she was distracted. Her hair was falling about her shoulders in wild curls and although she looked tired, he still wanted to bend her over and give her a good seeing too.

"Yer 'ungry?" He asked making no effort to stop his gaze from wandering over her body.

"No," she said, crossing her arms.

Scabior walked towards her, "well I am." He tugged on one of her curls, "yer gonna wait 'ere while I get somethin?"

"Where else would I go?" She muttered reaching up to pull her hair out of his fingers.

The Snatcher dropped his hand, "I want yer promise Love."

He watched as she shifted away from him increasing the distance between them. He saw the moment she put up her walls, seeking to push him out. As if he'd let her. "Ermione? Yer word, Love." Her lips set in a mulish line that made him smile, "cause if yer aint 'ere, then how am I supposed to tell yer how we're gonna catch Bella?"

"You have a plan? Tell me!" She said.

Scabior shook his head and regarded his nails. "After I've been fer food."

"Fine. I promise," she snapped, hair crackling with her growing rage.

He grinned, disapparating before she changed her mind. He appeared on the edge of a village, a place he'd used for gathering supplies before. If gathering meant stealing. Not that he'd tell Hermione that. His little witch wouldn't approve. He strolled down the centre of the village, under disillusionment. It was still early, and most people were only just waking up, but a few early birds were up and about. So he didn't want to take any chances.

Scabior made it to the corner shop without incident. The closed sign was showing but he knew it was due to be flipped over soon. He made short work of the lock, remembering at the last second to send a silencing charm at the bell above the door. He stepped inside, leaving the door open a crack behind him. There wasn't much in the way of choice, but he should be able to snatch enough to last them a couple of days.

Five minutes later, eggs, tinned soup, bread, apples and potatoes weighing him down, Scabior returned to the hut. His gaze immediately sought out Hermione. She was sitting on the steps looking lost.

"Okay, Love?" He asked dumping the stuff on the ground.

"Yes," she whispered clearly not okay.

Scabior rolled his eyes. "Now Pet, what did I say about lies?"

Hermione avoided his gaze. Even when he crouched down in front of her and put his hands on either side of her head. "If yer don't want ter tell me the truth, then don't." He slid his fingers into her hair, "but don't lie ter me." Scabior waited until she nodded, before backing away and skirting the hut to find the fire pit he'd stored underneath.

He pulled it to the centre of the clearing, retrieved some logs from the wood pile and started a fire. Whilst the flames were building he entered the hut and pulled a trunk from beneath the bed. He flipped the lid, pulling out a frying pan. The entire time Hermione hadn't moved. But he could feel her watching him.

The fire had banked down a little, so he put the frying pan onto the grid and reached for some eggs, "sure yer don't want any?"

"No. I'm really not hungry," she said.

"Suit yerself," Scabior said popping some bread on the grill to toast.

Hermione stood and began to walk around the clearing. "Will you tell me how we're going to catch Bella and Peter now?"

Scabior slapped his eggs on his toast, "Yer know what I said about lies?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well I'm about ter show yer how it works," he said, tipping back so he lounged on his side, "Yer see Kitten, when I'm trackin' it's the magic I follow."

"And," she said impatiently gesturing for him to continue. But then her eyes widened. "But Bella and Peter don't have their own magic! You've never been able to track them have you?" she yelled.

"I can track 'em Love." He regarded the seething witch, "just not usin' their magic."

Her hair was doing that crackling thing again and she looked seconds away from pulling her wand out and hexing him. Her fingers twitched. Her eyes narrowed and he suspected she was thinking about doing some very painful things to him.

"Dove-"

"Don't speak to me!" She hissed, turning her back on him and striding away.

Scabior figured it was best to let her cool off. And she needed to by the way she marched to the bottom of the field, blasting a path through the undergrowth with her wand as she went.

He ate his toasted sandwich as he watched her. Hoping she'd be as passionate in his bed as she was at this exact moment. He liked feisty, as did his rapidly stiffening cock. Finally, she got her temper under control and came back to him.

Hermione stood over him, backlit by the sun, expression fierce. "Well? Tell me your fantastic master plan then," she said, voice sharp enough to cut paper.

Scabior let his eyes traced the curve of her waist, the soft flare of her hip. "Yer won't like it Love,"

"Tell me anyway," she said.

"I need to see the redheads body, get a taste of Bella's new magic."

Hermione's closed her eyes. "I don't think that will be possible," she whispered.

The Snatcher eased to his feet. "We'd need Kingsley's 'elp." He stretched out his fingers to caress her cheek. It was soft. Like touching a peach and the whiskey eyed witch leaned into him the barest amount.

Her eyes fluttered open, "Isn't there any other way?"

"Not unless yer got a vial of Bella's blood hidden about yer person," Scabior said, inching closer. He could feel her trembling. A light shudder that didn't stop when he pressed against her, using a hand on the small of her back to hold her in place. His breath ghosted along the line of her neck. Lips millimetres from touching her pounding pulse.

"Ah!" Hermione shoved him away. Spinning away to run to the hut.

Scabior felt his mouth drop open. Rejection soured his gut. In all his years, he'd never once had a woman turn him down. His eyes narrowed as a sneer curled his lip. If she thought he'd allow her to play with his emotions then she was in for a very nasty surprise.

The door to the hut thumped open, and Hermione came rushing towards him. She was carrying something in her hand. A grey lumpy something.

"Will this do?" She said thrusting, what he now saw was a jumper, towards him.

Scabior glanced dismissively at it, "fer what?" He said coolly.

Hermione hesitated, not understanding his sudden aloofness. "It has Bella's blood on it." She held the jumper up so he could see the few scattered drops, "will this be enough?"

Scbaior's eyes dipped to the faded brown marks. "it might do," he huffed out, seeking to disguise his embarrassment. "Where'd yer get it anyway?"

"It's from Malfoy Manor, when Bella tortured me." Her hands brushed the jumper softly, "I never washed it because it still smells of my mum's washing powder."

The Snatcher shuffled in discomfort, "all we can do is try. It might be enough."

"Is it blood magic you'll be using?" Hermione said, eyes wide with curiosity.

Scabior hummed his agreement. "Course we'll need some stuff." He rolled his eyes when she eagerly nodded.

"I'll make a list," she said, making to go back and retrieve some ink and parchment from the bottom of her bottomless bag.

Scabior snagged her elbow. "Don't need a list Love, I got it all up 'ere." He tapped the side of his head once with his finger.

"Then you'll go now?" She nibbled her lip in thought, "I could get it ready as you collect it." Her eyes regarded him absently, "you'll have to show me how of course."

"Plannin' me day are yer, Kitten?"

Hermione had the grace to flush, "sorry. It's just so hard to sit here an do nothing."

"Nothin'? Is that what we were doin' Pet?" Scabior said, eyebrow cocked in question.

The receding flush returned, and she dropped her eyes to the trampled grass. "No."

"No? Would yer care to elaborate?" He said using his index finger to lift her chin. "Or would yer prefer me ter show yer?"

A self satisfied grin crept onto his face when he saw her pupils dilate and her breathing stutter. Her cheeks were tinged the most delightful shade of pink. "I'm waitin' Beautiful."

Hermione stared into his inky eyes. "I want you to show me," she said softy.

Scabior's grin spread wider, triumph sharpening the lines of his face. "Come 'ere then." He stood perfectly still, eyes drinking in the sight of Hermione closing the distance between them. She stopped, a breath away from him, the heat from her body pressing into his. Her head tipped back, wild curls falling away from her shoulders and baring the slim column of her throat.

She paused for a moment, warm brown eyes searching his. Whatever she saw made her blink and press forwards. Lips touching lips. A shy almost chaste kiss. Scabior growled, yanking her against him. Fusing his mouth to hers. His hands reached up to thread through her hair, using the curly strands to tilt her head for better access. A flick of his tongue had her opening her mouth to him. She whimpered when his tongue brushed hers. Gasped when he flicked the tip against the roof of her mouth.

Scabior gently rocked his hips against her, needing to ease some of the pressure in his throbbing cock. He pulled away from her mouth to plaster desperate open mouth kisses to her neck. She sighed and ran her hands up his back to settle on his shoulders.

"This isn't getting the stuff," she muttered making no move to push him away. Indeed pulling him closer and twisting her head to recapture his mouth. He was moments away from tumbling her to the ground and fucking her under the sun, when she broke away.

"Yer gonna leave me with blue balls again Love?" He groaned.

Hermione winced, a furious blush coating her skin. "Will you just go get the stuff?"

Scabior eyed her, taking in her nervous twitching, "Yer worried I'd force yer?"

Her startled gaze rose to him. "No," she stepped forward, brushing her hand along his jaw, "I'm, nervous, and scared, and freaking out, and-"

"Thinkin' too much," he said, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand. "I'll get the stuff." He waved a hand between them, "but this aint finished."

She nibbled on her lip and nodded. "We'll...continue...after."

"Can 'ardly wait Love. Fer now I'll make do with a wank," he said, laughing at her mortified expression.

He wasn't kidding either. His first destination would be a secluded wood where he could wack off without being disturbed. A cheeky wink before he disapparated had her flushing an alarming shade of red. He'd bet it wasn't as red as his cock though.

* * *

 **I know, I know, I'm a tease. Next chapter. I promise!**

 **Thanks for reading and please review.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter rated 'M' for smut.**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Hermione didn't know what to do with her hands. They wouldn't keep still. No matter what she did with them. She tried, for the third time, to press them against her thighs just above her knees. And although that helped, it didn't stop her fingers from digging into her flesh in agitation. It wasn't just her hands either. Her lip kept creeping between her teeth and she feared by the end of the day it would be a tattered mess. She huffed in annoyance, popped her lip free and folded her arms. Her foot started jiggling.

"Bloody Snatcher," she muttered.

It was all his fault. With his teasing and kisses and lewdness. Not to mention that languid grace that always made her feel like her stomach was being stirred with a fork.

Why on earth had she told him they'd 'continue' after?

She wasn't even sure whether her idea of 'continue' was the same as his. Did she really want to give him her virginity? Now that she'd had time to fret, the answer was no. But she knew that when Scabior touched her again the answer would be an enthusiastic yes. It was madness. She'd fallen for a Death Eater. A Death Eater who made her feel things that Ron and Viktor never had. Those childish emotions faded in comparison to what she was now experiencing.

Making him go for the stuff had been a mistake. Instead of giving her some time to think, all she'd done was turn herself into a quivering nervous wreck. One with hands that wouldn't keep, _bloody_ , still. But at least Scabior wasn't around to witness her rapidly fraying composure. He was still gathering the supplies for whatever blood magic he was going to perform. The trouble was he'd been gone for hours. More than long enough for her to start panicking. At one point she'd even preformed the contraception spell. Then immediately wished that she hadn't. It did keep her mind off Harry though, although not for long. Suddenly she'd close her eyes and see Ginny's body and she'd be close to tears.

What she needed was a book. A thick chunky book that would tell her what to do with her stupid trembling hands. She took a deep breath, seeking to calm herself. It didn't work. So she made a plan instead.

Wait until Scabior arrived, and then throw herself at him. Fast, so her brain couldn't shudder in horror and talk her out of it. Hermione was positive that as soon as the 'continuing' was over with, she could relax. And her curiosity would be satisfied. As well as her body. She nodded her head, pleased that she now felt more in control.

All she had to do was wait. And wait. And wait.

It was mid afternoon when he returned. The dry pop shattering the silence. Hermione spun to face him, the apple she was eating forgotten in her hand. She dropped it and marched towards him, determination evident in every stride.

Scabior was carrying a canvas sack, which he lifted as she closed the distance, "Got everythin' we need Sweetness. I even collected yer tent."

Hermione knocked it aside and planted her lips against his. Hands reaching up to settle on leather clad shoulders. And that was as far as her courage got her. An awkward clash of lips. She felt his mouth curve into a smile and backed away.

"Yer eager to continue somethin' Love?" His smug voice reached her ears.

Hermione scowled at the ground, cursing her flushed cheeks. "You know I am. Don't tease me," she said, feeling like an utter fool. She didn't dare look at him for fear of seeing amusement at her boldness.

"Hush now Love," cool fingers brushed feather light along her jaw, "yer sure about this?"

Hermione pulled in a shaky breath, heart beating like a wild thing beneath her ribs. Her eyes rose to meet his. "I'm sure."

Scabior inclined his head, dropped the sack, and skimmed his hand down her arm to circle her wrist. She didn't offer any resistance as he led her to the hut. Indeed she felt relieved. All of her earlier nerves replaced by anticipation. A breathless giddiness that lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. Stoked by the knowledge of the pleasure his fingers could bring.

It was dark inside the shelter, and warm. Scabior muttered a word and the candles burst into life. Golden light chasing away the gloom. He closed the door and turned to regard her. Hermione shifted under his inky gaze. She didn't know quite what to do next. Scabior was peeling off his coat and placing it on the hook behind him. His hungry eyes never left hers the entire time.

Her hands shook as she fiddled with the bottom of her jumper, unsure if she should take it off or wait for him to do it for her.

"Just take off yer boots Love, I'll take care of the rest." He gave her a cheeky wink.

A soft laugh bubbled up and out of her, "Okay." She reached down to unlace her boots, tugging them off and shoving them under the bed. Whilst she was at it she took off her socks as well. Her hands were trembling, which was an improvement over the shaking of earlier. She had to admit that she hadn't expected it to be so civilized. But oddly, it helped to calm her, which was probably why he was doing it. She'd noticed Scabior could be surprisingly attentive when he chose to be.

When she lifted her eyes, it was to see Scabior shirtless and a step away from her. Hermione blinked, taking in his lightly muscled form and ticking jaw. She stood and took a hesitant step towards him, stopping only when a breath separated them. For a long second she stared at him. Then a soft smile touched her lips. She was ready. She wanted this.

"I want ter touch yer." His deep, gravelly voice made her stomach dip.

Hermione nodded. The only thing she was capable of when he was looking at her like he wanted to lick every inch of her skin. His hands skimmed up her thighs to rest on the curve of her waist. She gasped when he tugged her against him. Whimpered when his mouth brushed hers. Groaned when his tongue swept inside to caress her own. Hot, wet sounds filled the air, interspersed with groans and ragged breaths.

His skin felt burning hot beneath her hands as she clutched at him, fingers digging into flexing muscles. Her stomach clenched as his hands gripped the bottom of her jumper and tugged, pulling it up and over her head in one swift move. Scabior's lips inched from her mouth to her jaw, then down along her neck. He lingered for a while, sucking and biting at her skin.

Hermione groaned. Lost in the sensation of him rocking his hips against her, of his chest touching hers. Skin on skin.

"Yer like that Love?" he breathed into her collarbone.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, "Hmm."

He chuckled, easing his hands up her spine to undo her bra. "Let's see what else yer like," he muttered, pressing her back over his arm and baring her breasts to his greedy mouth.

Hermione's eyes closed at the feel of his hot wet lips closing over her nipple. It felt insanely good, more so when his fingers traced the line of the scar that marred her chest. Hermione never really gave much thought to her scars. They were just a part of her. She was neither proud nor ashamed of them. They just were. But when Scabior used the tip of his fingers to trace along the slightly raised edge whilst he sucked on her stiffened nipple, the prickly sensation had her wrapping a leg around him and pulling him closer.

"Yer want more?" His voice was rapidly losing its playful edge.

"Yes." She dropped her leg and pressed a kiss to his chest. He had a slight smattering of hair, enough to tickle her lips and run her fingers through. It was utterly fascinating. And for a moment she lost herself in the feel of touching him. The way the muscles in his stomach jumped the lower she brushed her hand.

"Yer teasin' me now Love?" He said.

Hermione eased against him, "I might be," she whispered, licking the thudding skin of his pulse.

Scabior groaned and dropped his hands to her jeans. "Why are yer still wearin' these?"

"Because you haven't taken them off," she huffed out.

He smirked and set about removing them. Quickly undoing the button and zipper and sliding them down her legs. She kicked them aside, using a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

"Sit," Scabior said, pushing her towards the bed.

Hermione sat. Although she felt a bit ridiculous in just her knickers. But when she looked at Scabior from beneath her lashes, a shudder travelled down her spine at the heated look he was giving her. She very carefully skipped over the bulge the front of his trousers were displaying. Not that she was afraid of looking, she was just afraid of him seeing her looking.

He knelt down in front of her, "lay back." His rough voice made her shiver as she slowly tipped back. The blanket was scratchy beneath her skin, but it was immediately forgotten when she felt Scabior's palms skim up the outside of her thighs and hook the elastic of her knickers. He drew them off. Leaving her bare.

"Open yer legs Love."

Hermione flushed, eyes dropping to see him smirking at her. "Come on Ermione, I wanna taste yer snatch."

Her stomach flipped and said snatch throbbed. "Why do you have to talk?" She groaned covering her face with her hands. Mortified that apparently, his dirty words turned her on.

A breath brushed her knuckles, "look at me."

Hermione dropped her hands and came face to face with him. His dark eyes were dancing with amusement. She opened her mouth to tell him he was a prat, when his mouth descended on hers. His tongue swept inside cutting off her words. Her humph of annoyance was swallowed.

Scabior lowered himself onto her and Hermione squirmed, back arching. He inserted a leg between hers, giving her something to buck against. And she did. Her body undulating with a mind of its own. Even when he began to move down, she barely noticed that her legs were parting to accommodate him. To caught up in the slickness of his mouth trailing over her skin.

All she seemed capable of was frantically clutching at the blanket. She froze when she felt his breath touch her intimate flesh. An endless second passed and then contact. Lips, tongue and very gently teeth. She gasped, reaching down to hold onto his hair. Using the messy strands to ground herself.

The feeling was so intense that she almost wanted it to stop. When his finger thrust inside, she grunted, hips pushing upwards. A second joined it, stretching her almost to the point of discomfort. She stopped moving. Needing a moment to get used to that feeling of fullness.

Scabior raised his head and propped his chin on her pelvis. His lips and chin were shiny from her wetness. "Okay Love?"

Hermione nodded, "Just give me a minute."

"Whatever yer need," he said, dipping back down to lap at her clit.

It felt nice. A whisper soft touch that made her jerk gently. He kept his fingers still, and she was grateful because it let her concentrate on the squirming feeling his tongue was causing instead. She sighed, sinking into into the mattress and letting the pleasure build. And it did build, quickly, when Scabior switched from licking to sucking. She felt her muscles begin to clench, and the second they did, Scabior began to thrust his fingers. A fast steady rhythm that pushed her over the edge. She came with a ragged cry, nails digging into his scalp.

Afterwards she floated back down to earth. The only sound was Hermione's frantic breaths and the soft rustle of fabric. Her eyes fluttered closed, only to open when she felt Scabior crawl over her. He was naked. A sliver a fear threatened to overwhelm her but she cast it aside. Refusing to think about how big his cock felt laying against the inside of her thigh.

Scraping together what courage she had, Hermione smiled running her hands up along his ribs. His dark eyes scanned her face. Searching to see if she was okay. To see if she wanted to carry on. It was the first time she'd ever seen him look so unsure. She wondered if it were the act itself that had him looking so serious, or the intimacy behind it.

"It's fine. I want too," she said, lifting to press a kiss to the side of his mouth.

"Yer need me ter preform a spell?"

Hermione shook her head, "I've already done it."

A cocky smile settled upon his lips. "That sure were yer?" His former arrogance returned, reassured by her softly spoken words. "Yer gonna have ter tell me what yer want Love."

She frowned, "I thought I just did."

"Nah," He placed his hands either side of her head, "I wanna 'ear Ermione Granger whisper somethin' filthy in my ear."

"Sod off," she said.

A laugh huffed out of him. "What if I say please?"

"The answer would still be the same."

He shook his head, "Yer wound me at every turn." He reached down to tap the inside of her thigh. "Knees up and open."

Hermione did as commanded. Nibbling on her lip and fixing her gaze on his.

"Yer ready?"

She nodded, blinking when she felt him use his hand to place himself at her entrance. She was still wet enough that the first nudge didn't hurt much at all. The second was slightly more painful. Her fingers dug into his ribs and he stopped.

"No. Keep going," she said forcing herself to relax.

He took her at her word and drove forward, sheathing his cock to the hilt. Hermione hissed, head thumping back on the mattress. Breath panting out of her. It hurt. Not unbearably, but enough that she didn't want him to move. Scabior seemed to know that because he eased down on top of her. His forehead touched hers. Lips peppered her face. He murmured soft reassurances into her skin as he kissed her.

Hermione sighed, unclenching her fingers from his ribs, and running them up his shoulders and under his hair to caress the back of his neck. The pain receded as she grew used to the feel of him inside her. Helped by his unexpected tenderness. She finally understood what all the fuss was about. Having him so close that she felt enveloped by him, left her giddy and out of breath. Not to mention the act of letting go and trusting another person so completely with her body.

"Okay. You can move," she said.

Scabior pressed one more kiss to the skin just beneath her ear and pushed up. The pace he set was unhurried. A deep steady thrust that gradually increased in speed and strength. Hermione breathed through the discomfort, instead focusing on the slide of his skin and the deep groans and muttered words that emerged from his mouth.

At one point, she twisted her head to the side, coming face to face with his dark mark. Scabior hesitated, juddering to a stop.

"It don't mean anythin' Love." His voice was rough, edged with an emotion she couldn't name.

"I know," she said, pulling on a strand of his hair, "why did you stop?"

He shrugged lazily and began to pump his pelvis. Hermione pulled her lip between her teeth, and switched her gaze back to his arm. The urge to reach out and touch it was strong. Just to see what it was like. If it felt like skin. So she did. Brushing her lips across the skull. It tasted the same as the rest of him. A little salty from the sweat coating his skin, but ultimately the same. She let her teeth graze him, biting just a little bit.

Scabior hissed, jerking into her. Hermione smiled, pleased that she could make him lose control. She lifted her ankles, and placed them around his hips, using her heels to urge him on. The new angle brushed a place inside her that made her shudder. She gasped and began kiss biting his neck.

The Snatcher cursed, driving into her with an intensity that left her breathless. It wasn't painful any longer, but neither was it pleasurable. It was somewhere in the middle. A snarl left Scabior as he slammed into her one final time and came with a roar.

Hermione held onto him as he dropped on top of her. A heavy weight that felt delicious.

"Yer okay Love?" He whispered into her ear.

It tickled and she wriggled from under him, pushing until he lay on his side. "I'm fine." She said, tucking herself against him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Was it what yer were expectin' Angel?" He said, voice lazy.

Hermione frowned. "Honestly? I didn't know what to expect." She brushed her fingers along his knuckles, "I liked it though."

"Fuckin' right yer did." He trailed his fingers over her hip. "Yer'll like it next time as well."

She smiled and let the languid feelings wash over her. Contentment filled her chest. And for the first time in ages, she closed her eyes and felt safe.

* * *

 **My first sex scene. Please be kind.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning for more smut. (Well they need to have some fun before we get back to the nasty stuff don't they?)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Hermione squeezed her thighs together. A dull ache, centred at her core, spiralled up and into her pelvis. A physical reminder of what they'd done. What she'd done. She hid a smile against the side of Scabior's firm chest. The Snatcher had fallen asleep a little while ago, a self satisfied grin tugging up the corners of his lips. Even in sleep he was an arrogant prat. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes. Not that she'd be able to drop into oblivion like him. Her brain was still kind of huffing in disbelief.

She'd had sex with a Death Eater. With Scabior. But perhaps the most surprising thing was that she didn't regret it. Not one bit. The only thing that did worry her was what Harry and Ron would say. Well, if she was honest, it was Harry that she was more worried about than Ron.

She nibbled on her lip as she continued to think about her two friends. Ron was probably the worst person to send to Hogwarts with Harry. He'd be too wrapped up in his own grief to notice Harry struggling with his. Instead of helping each other they'd both pretend they were okay, whilst inside they'd be collapsing like wet sandcastles. Restless energy began to build inside her. They still had so much to do. But completing whatever blood magic Scabior had planned for Bella was top priority. The insane witch could be strolling around polyjuiced as Hermione right at this moment, causing all kinds of trouble. Hermione shifted in agitation, only a tiny bit, but it was enough to wake Scabior.

"Yer okay Love?" He said, lifting his hand to stroke along her shoulder, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

"Yes," she whispered.

His leg came up to cover hers. "Any regrets?"

She shook her head against his side discreetly breathing in his musky scent. "No. Have you?"

Scabior snorted, "I don't do regrets, Kitten." His mouth came down to kiss her shoulder, tongue swiping out to lick her skin as his hand snaked down between her legs, "Yer sore?"

Hermione hid her blushing cheeks behind her hands. "A bit."

"I could kiss it better. Would yer like that?" He began to shuffle down.

"Wait!"

Scabior paused, an incredulous look crossing his face. "Yer want me to wait?"

Hermione smiled, having the sudden urge to tease him. "No. I just thought you might show me some other stuff."

"Oh, Pet. I can show yer all kinds of things." His mouth dropped down to press a soft kiss to the scar on the centre of her chest. "All yer need do is ask, and I'll give yer anythin yer want."

She bit her lip to prevent her grin from spreading. "There is one thing," she said softly, letting her hands trail up his sides. Light enough to make him squirm.

"Tell me." His demand was roughly spoken against her skin.

She lifted her head, "I want you," he pressed his stiff cock against her and she gasped, "to show me," Hermione fought the urge to tilt her hips, "how to do the blood magic."

Scabior groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder, "Yer fuckin' kiddin' me?"

"Nope." A small giggle broke free and at his disgruntled grumbling. She looped her arms around his neck. "All I can think about is Bella, wandering around looking like me. Can you imagine what kind of things she could do? Who else she could hurt?"

A heavy sigh brushed her skin. "Unfortunately I can."

Hermione's smile faded at his serious tone. And the events of the previous day came tumbling down on top of her. Ginny was dead and here she was giggling like one of those silly girls she so despised. Her lips tightened in annoyance as she pushed herself up and away from Scabior. They didn't have time for this. She didn't have time for this.

"Ermione?"

She began to pull on her rumpled clothes with rough angry jerks. "How long will it take to complete?"

A pause greeted her. A long tense pause.

"Yer havin' doubts Pretty?" The sneer staining his voice was obvious.

Hermione twisted to face him, clad only in jumper and knickers. Her eyes traced his body, languid and perfectly at ease in his nakedness as he reclined on the bed. But that same ease didn't reach his eyes. Those remained cool and closed off from her.

She shook her head. "No doubts." A step towards him, "I just..." The burn of impending tears built behind her eyes. "We shouldn't be happy should we? Ginny died yesterday and Merlin knows who's next and we're..." Her words fizzled into nothing as her throat closed up.

Scabior sat up, pulling Hermione to sit down on his knee. "We're gonna take every safe moment we 'ave and we're gonna enjoy it." He pinched her chin between his fingers, "now take off yer knickers so I can fuck yer."

A startled laugh fell from her lips. He was so bloody annoying. But that didn't stop her from shimmering the soft cotton down her legs and straddling him. He smirked as he gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her head back, baring the column of her throat. A warm breath touched her skin, then a wet swipe as his tongue tasted her.

Hermione sighed lifting her hands up to hold onto his shoulders. Every thought dropped out of her head and she concentrated on nothing but the feel of him kissing her neck, sucking on her flesh and lightly biting with his teeth. She shuddered when he reached the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, and when his hands cupped her breasts she dragged his mouth onto hers. Sucking on his lip and using her teeth to hold it in place as she gently used her tongue to caress him.

He groaned and the sound urged her into grinding herself against his cock. Brushing herself back and forth along his stiff length. It was her turn to groan when he trailed his hand down her stomach and between her legs. Her body snapped straight when he found her clit. Rubbing in quick circles that left her gasping. The hands resting on his shoulders pulled him closer. The slick sound his fingers made had her cheeks flushing a brilliant red.

She kissed her way to his ear, "I want you inside me now."

Scabior chuckled and removed his hand, bringing it back up to rest on the curve of her waist. "Reach down and put my cock where yer want it."

Hermione blushed, ducking her head so he wouldn't see. "I've never...you know."

"Touched a cock?" A hasty no muttered into his neck. "Then it's time yer became acquainted with mine." He shunted his hips up, the tip of him brushing her wet folds.

Curiosity overcame her embarrassment as she slowly let her hand trail down his stomach. The muscles tensed beneath her fingers in the most distracting way. They practically turned to stone when she allowed her nails to drag along his skin. Her hand dropped lower still, finally touching him for the first time. He was hot and hard, but felt damp and velvety soft at the same time. She squeezed and Scabior grunted, thrusting against her.

"Yer gonna make me come Love," he hissed into her ear.

Hermione smiled as she moved her hand over him, twisting and brushing her thumb over the tip. "Isn't that the point?"

Scabior chuckled. "Well I aint goin' alone," he said, placing his hand back between her legs and rubbing his thumb along the side of her clit. His fingers he let hover at her entrance. Teasingly close to plunging in but denying her at the last moment. She narrowed her eyes at his smirk. Clearly seeing the challenge his was issuing.

Her hand tightened on him and she concentrated on brushing her thumb on the underside of his cock just below the head. A place that she noticed made his jaw tick and hips jerk. She didn't have time to feel smug at her new found knowledge, because Scabior retaliated by thrusting two fingers inside of her and placing the pad of his thumb directly onto the most sensitive part of her clit and pressing hard.

Hermione gasped, almost lifting off him. "Not fair!"

"Fuck fair," he muttered, flexing his fingers so that they pressed on the bundle of nerves inside of her.

She bucked on top of him, slamming her pelvis down onto his hand. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach and the skin on her back and legs began to tingle. Scabior's hot breath puffed against her neck as she clenched around him, coming so hard she forgot to breathe. The instant it was over she sagged against him riding the aftershocks with little tremors that made her shudder against him.

She was barely aware when Scabior wrapped his own hand around hers and began to urge her into a quicker rhythm, forcing her fingers tighter around his cock than she would have dared herself. She knew the moment he was close because he started to mutter and pull her closer, increasing the speed of their hands. Then suddenly his muscles stiffened and he came, warm liquid splashing her fingers and thighs. A few more pumps and he was done. Their breaths mingling as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"I won that round Love," he gasped.

Hermione drew back, "I didn't know it was a competition."

Scbaior muttered a Scourgify, cleaning their hands and Hermione's thighs, "Course yer did. And I won it," he stated, putting his hands on her waist and helping her to stand. "Now shall we go make that trackin' crystal yer so eager to create?"

"A crystal? Do you infuse Bella's blood into it? What spell will we use?"

The Snatcher pulled on his pants and snorted, "I'll use. It's dark magic Love, you aint touching it."

Hermione huffed but was secretly pleased that he was seeking to protect her. But then she remembered something that he clearly hadn't. The binding placed on him by Kinglsey would prevent him from casting the dark magic needed to create the crystal. "Mmm." She shifted uneasily, quickly pulling on her knickers and pants. "You won't be able to preform the spell."

Scabior paused in the act of pulling on his shirt, his features showing confusion. His eyes narrowed as her meaning suddenly became clear. "Fuck."

Hermione winced, both at the sharply spat word and the fierce scowl his face was twisted into. She nibbled on her lip as he tugged on the shirt with quick angry jerks. His mumbled words were indistinct, but she didn't need to hear to know that none of it was complimentary.

"I'm sorry," she muttered feeling an odd sense of guilt over shackling his magic.

The Snatcher heaved in an aggravated breath and reached over to curl his fingers under her hair and around her neck, "not your fault." He pulled her close, dipping his head into the curve of her neck and breathing in her calming scent. "You'll 'ave to do it."

Hermione nodded. "Okay, how long will it take?"

Scabior shrugged, "a few hours?" He drew away to pull on his waistcoat, "yer surprisingly calm fer a good girl about ter do dark magic, Love."

"Whatever it takes and all that," she said following him out of the hut and towards the discarded sack.

The truth was that Hermione really would do anything it took to end this and if that meant using Dark Magic, then so be it. She would quite happily wear a smudge on her soul for the rest of her life, just as long as Bella and Peter were caught. It would be worth it for that alone.

"I'll get everthin' ready," Scabior opened the sack and withdrew a vial of clear liquid, "take this and use it ter harvest the blood."

Hermione took the vial from him and returned to the hut to retrieve her jumper. Once she had it, she sat on the chair and arranged the garment on the table so that the splatters of blood showed. Another search through her bag for some scissors and she was ready to begin. Careful not to miss any drops, she cut around the blood before dropping the rust coloured threads into the vial. She replaced the cork stopper and shook the bottled vigorously for several minutes. The clear liquid turned a murky red.

A grim smile emerged on her lips. Bella's blood had a remarkably muddy tinge to it. She wondered what the insane witch would do if she pointed that out to her. Maybe it would make her head explode and save them all the trouble of hunting her.

Satisfied that she'd removed all the blood, Hermione shoved the jumper back into her purse and left the hut. Scabior was beside a small fire, dropping various herbs into a large copper pot. It was steaming, and even from a distance Hermione could hear the pop and fizz the boiling liquid made.

"What are you doing?" She asked, coming to sit beside him. The smell of crushed greenery filled her nose and she scrunched her nose in distaste.

Scabior held out his hand for the vial, "boilin' the minerals out of the 'erbs."

Hermione passed him Bella's blood, smiling when he let his fingers linger longer than necessary. "Who taught you how to do this?"

"My Gran," he said, eyeing the boiling herbs and using his wand to bring up the heat under the pot. The steam increased, billowing into the air in thick white puffs, rapidly evaporating the liquid inside the pot.

"Was she a Snatcher?" Hermione asked.

Scabior hummed in agreement but didn't elaborate any further. Instead taking a small metal dish and pouring the vial inside. "I'm gonna use a drop of my blood ter form the bond, but I'll need some of yours as well." He reached down to pluck a piece of parchment from the ground at his feet. "When I tell yer, say this and send a heating charm at the dish."

Hermione took the parchment from him and studied the Latin script. She was so busy trying to remember the spell that she didn't notice Scabior add a drop of his blood to Bella's. When he nudged her knee and passed her the small blade she hesitated.

"Just a drop, Love," he said.

The witch grimaced but set the edge of the blade against the pad of her thumb and pressed, creating a tiny cut. She quickly moved it over the dish and squeezed, forcing a single drop to join Bella and Scabior's. They swirled together forming a deeper shade. As she pulled her hand back, Scabior snagged her wrist and sucked her thumb into his mouth. Her eyes dilated as he swiped his tongue across her cut licking away the blood.

His inky eyes stared into hers, almost black from desire as he popped her thumb free. "I like the way yer taste."

Hermione's stomach dropped. Flipping in on itself when he gave her a lust filled stare. "First the crystal," he stated in a husky voice.

"Yes," she said, already wondering what else his tongue would taste.

Scabior twisted to the side, using his wand to levitate the copper pot towards the dish. When it was hovering above the blood-filled dish, he twitched his wand to the side, causing the pot to tilt and pour the now dry herbs onto the blood.

"Get ready ter heat it," he murmured.

Hermione took a hold of her wand, repeating the curse in her head until the words formed a seamless loop. Scabior nodded sharply to her once, and Hermione pointed her wand and let loose a blast of heat. The liquid inside the dish turned to steam, and then condensed into a thick red viscous jelly.

"Say the curse."

Hermione took a breath and spoke the incantation. The words felt oily as they left her tongue, dripping from her lips to soak into the air. Around them the pressure dropped causing a vacuum that made Hermione's ears pop.

"Drop yer wand, Love." Scabior brushed his hand up and down her thigh, "It's done."

Hermione dropped her wand and peered at the red blob that sat in the centre of the dish. "It doesn't look like a crystal," she said.

Scabior chuckled and let his hand inch up her leg, "It'll take a few hours ter form."

"Hours you say?" Hermione said somewhat disappointed.

"I know Love," the Snatcher replied leaning in to kiss her neck, "how on earth will we pass the time?"

She reached up to hold his shoulders, "I'm sure you'll come up with something," she whispered.

And he did. Some very pleasurable things.

* * *

 **Don't forget to leave me your thoughts ;)**


	21. Chapter 21

**So sorry for the delay. This chapter just did not want to come. (I think I painted myself into a corner made of smut and didn't want to leave ;)**

 **This is kind of a filler/bridging chapter, but important all the same.**

 **(I've also started a new fic, Hermione X Lucius called Death in the shadows. Check it out if you feel like it)**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-one

Kingsley needed a drink. A tumbler full of Fire Whiskey that he could chug down and forget that the world existed. If only for a few hours. Instead, he was sitting at his desk preparing to answer questions in front of the Wizengmot. Not that it was officially a trial, at least that's what they'd told him, but he knew enough of legal speech to suspect he'd be judged all the same.

He scoffed as he shuffled his parchment back and forth across his desk, knowing that every single thing he'd scrawled down wouldn't help him in the least. The Ministry had it in for him and he had an awful feeling that today would be the day that they managed to land the killing blow. But in all honestly, he couldn't say that he cared. Seeing Ginny's dead body and the Weasley's grief had almost undone him. But it was Harry's blank gaze that had broken something inside him. The poor boy had been through so much already and he couldn't help but feel responsible. Attacking the Revel had been a mistake. And they'd paid dearly for it.

He'd failed them all. More than once. But at least Hermione knew the truth. Knew what Bella had done. And he had more faith in her abilities to stop her than anyone. He had to. The alternative didn't bare thinking about.

A knock at the door had him forcing his spine straight and arranging his face into one of indifference. "Enter."

The door swung open admitting Pippit. The dark haired Auror looked grave as he regarded Kingsley, "Minister Shacklebolt, I've been instructed to escort you to the Wizengmot."

Kingsley inclined his head, "Of course." Hearing the meaning behind the words perfectly. He was to attend whether he wanted to or not.

Pippit clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently for Kingsley to gather his papers. "I apologize for my involvement in this, but I was unable to refuse my instructions."

"Of course, I hold no ill feelings towards you." Kingsley rose to his feet, "And I'd rather it were you than anyone else."

The Auror smiled, "then let us go have our time wasted."

A chuckle erupted from the Ministers' chest, "Yes. Lets."

They left the room, walking side by side down the dim hall. Kingsley aware of the covert looks he was receiving from every direction. He knew they blamed him for the disastrous swinside stone circle incident. More than a few Auror's had been injured, some seriously, and the blame was being laid firmly at his feet. The death of Ginny had been the final straw. Not because she died. No, the minister's weren't particularity upset about that, but they were upset that it could have been Harry Potter that was cold and lifeless.

"Are you prepared for the questions they'll ask?" Pippit murmured tilting his head so only Kingsley would hear him.

"As I'll ever be." Shacklebolt replied, "I suspect they'll seek to undermine me to the point that I'll have no choice but to resign."

Pippit scoffed, "Fools, all of them." He turned left, heading towards the wizengmot, "I was sorry to hear of the Weasley girls death. But I'm finding it hard to believe Hermione is responsible. There are whispers of the Imperio being cast upon her."

Kingsley hesitated, unwilling to speak of Hermione's innocence. Even to Pippit who he trusted more than most inside the M.O.M. The truth would only be known between Harry, George, Hermione and himself. And Scabior he supposed, although the thought of the former Death Eater knowing any of their secrets left a sour taste in his mouth.

Aware of Pippit expecting a reply, Kingsley bobbed his head, "Yes." Was all he said.

They continued the rest of the way in silence. Kingsley feeling the sense of dread rising the closer they got. Finally, they reached the door behind which his future was about to be decided. He pulled in a steadying breath before nodding his head to Pippit. The young Auror stepped passed him and opened the door, gesturing for the Minister to enter.

When Kingsley strode into the circular room all of his suspicions were confirmed. Almost every Minister of any importance was in attendance. Each watching him with an expression of glee that made his skin crawl and prickle in alarm. He had been under the impression that this would be a question and answer session, that they would seek a vote of no confidence in him and he would be forced to resign. He flicked a gaze at Pippit's blank face and knew the young Auror had known exactly what he was leading him into.

A sense of betrayal settled in his chest but he quickly thrust it aside, instead raising his head in a regal manner and striding to the centre of the room. Not one friendly face was sat amongst the masses. But in truth the only one he would have wished to see was Arthur Weasley. That was impossible of course, with Ginny's death, Arthur was needed by his family and Kingsley doubted that the Weasley Patriarch even knew what was happening.

He settled his gaze on Minister Newthan, the man he knew was the one who coveted his position the most. He was also the one who was behind most of the rumours that had dogged him since he'd taken over from Scrimgeour. Although now that he thought about it, Pippit had been the one to inform him of most of these rumours. Perhaps he'd also been the one to start them.

He shook the thought aside and brought Newthan back into focus. The grey haired man had a viscous glint to his eyes that let Kingsley know that he was in big trouble.

"I am here as requested," Shacklebolt said fighting to keep his voice steady.

Newthan inclined his head, "Indeed you are. Now, as I'm sure you're aware , we have a few questions for you."

"Then ask. I will, of course, answer them to the best of my abilities." Kinglsey said not letting his eyes move from Newthan.

"Would you care to explain why you made the decision to attack the Revel?" A low murmur circled the room.

Shacklebolt's fists tightened at his sides, hidden from view by his robes, "The information I received indicated that several Death Eaters would be in attendance, I thought it prudent to apprehend them."

"Yes, this information you speak of." Newthan frowned in apparent confusion, "Who gave it to you?"

"I'm afraid I can't relay that," Kingsley said.

Yells of outrage surrounded him. A few words of insult as well.

Newthan raised his hand, an unspoken order for silence that was quickly obeyed. "You refuse to answer?"

Kingsley hesitated, knowing whatever answer he gave would be wrong. "I-"

"We know your source is Hermione Granger. The same Hermione Granger who was involved in the death of Ginny Weasley." Newthan said, "The same Hermione Granger who you gave permission to raid the Ministry vaults. And the same Hermione Granger who is on the run with a known Death Eater, who you, Minister Shacklebolt set free. "

Kingsley's head swung Pippit's way as the room began shouting in shock and anger. The Auror slowly twisted to face him, a small smile gracing his lips. Only noticeable because they were standing so close.

A loud bang brought his attention back to Newthan. The Minister had hit his fisted hand onto the table in front of him. All sound in the room died down. "I accuse you of being in league with Miss Granger, of stealing books on Dark magic from the Ministry," spittle flew from his mouth as his voice rose to a shout, "And of casting spells from those books. Do you deny it?"

The silence was so complete that you could hear a pin drop. Hear every breath that was being drawn. A feeling of helplessness began to rise from the bottom of Kingsley's feet, slowly moving upwards and into his chest. Denial would be useless. They would only have to call for truth serum and his guilt would be laid bare for all to see.

He would not grovel, or plead, or make excuses. He would own this and trust that the Order would come to his aid once they knew all of the facts.

He straightened his shoulders. Head held arrogantly high. "I deny nothing."

More shouts, this time calling for his arrest. It was all so very predictable, almost like it had been planned. Kingsley eyed the young Auror coolly. Not once shifting his gaze as Pippit approached. He stood perfectly still as magical cuffs were applied and his wand withdrawn.

"You will be taken to Azkaban where you will await trail for your crimes against the Ministry and Wizarding world." Newthan's smug voice stroked the air, "Take him."

Kingsley fought to keep his face impassive as Pippit led him away. Thankfully through a private exit. At least he would be spared the humiliation of facing the public. It was one hundred eighty-five steps to the Apparation point that would take them to Azkaban. And a further four hundred and seventeen to reach his cell. He'd visited the prison often enough that he knew what to expect. So the sight of the icy cold stone cell wasn't a surprise. Neither were the shouts of hatred that the inhabitants were currently serenading him with.

He took the steps required to bring him into the cell and turned to face Pippit.

"It was you all along?"

Pippit gave a polite but meaningless smile. "Where's Hermione?"

"Do you honestly think that I would tell you." Kingsley scoffed.

"You will." Pippit stepped into the cell, swinging the door closed behind him, "Given the right incentive."

Kingsley stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated by the younger man. "You mean to torture me." He stated flatly.

Pippit drew his wand, "torture is to tame of a word for what I have planned for you."

Shacklebolt felt the first stirrings of fear, not at the words, but at the cool way he delivered them. Not a hint of emotion present. His lips tightened in a grim line. But still he refused to move from the centre of the cell. Even when Pippit cast wandlessly and broke the bones in his wrist.

The first of many. Pippit didn't once ask another question.

* * *

 **Please review and tell me your thoughts :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**This feels like a joining chapter to me and truthfully I'm not entirely happy with it. But I think it's a necessary pause for the story, before we check in on Kingsley, Bella, and Pippit.**

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Chapter Twenty Two

Hermione held the tracking crystal up to the sky. It was a deep red with veins of rusty brown spiralling towards the centre. Spiky edged and cool in the palm of her hand.

"How does it work?" She asked Scabior as she continued to study the crystal.

The Snatcher looked up from his place next to the small campfire. "Yer want ter know all my secrets do yer love?"

"If you wouldn't mind." She said, smiling when he threw her a sour look.

"Well," He pushed to his feet and made his way towards her, "it'll cost yer." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Then maybe I'll ask someone else."

"Yer fuckin' won't." He said, settling behind her and looping his arms around her waist. "Besides this is a secret only Snatcher's know."

She tipped her head back against his shoulder, "Then it's lucky I know one isn't it?"

Breath touched the side of her neck, "Hmmm. How about we make a trade?" His warm tongue swiped her neck.

Hermione wriggled, "We don't have to trade. I'm more than willing to do whatever you want."

Scabior tensed behind her and she allowed a smile to curve her lips. Slytherins. Always expecting to bargain or trade or owe favours. They could never just _do_ anything without some kind of expectation of something in return.

"So are you going to tell me how this works?" She held up the crystal so the sun shone through it.

Scabior nuzzled her ear, "I'd rather talk about what yer willin' ter do fer me."

Hermione tutted, "after you tell me how this works."

The Snatcher let out a long suffering sigh. "Like a magnet, I suppose," Seeing her puzzled look he said, "close yer eyes." He placed his chin on top of her shoulder and waited for her to comply, "take a deep breath and concentrate on the crystal. Feel the weight and texture."

She did as he said, feeling the cool weight of it against her palm. The sharp edges pressing into her skin.

"Now close yer fingers around it and imagine it's sinkin' into yer hand." Scabior's voice whispered.

Hermione did as he said, frowning in concentration. Bottom lip held firmly between her teeth. A few minutes passed in which nothing happened. But then she felt...something. A kind of tingling, vibrating sensation, that slowly travelled up the length of her arm.

"I can feel something." She murmured.

Scabior shifted behind her, running his finger along her arm until they circled her slim wrist. He very gently moved her arm from side to side. "Where does it feel strongest?" He said, voice barely a sound at all.

Hermione held her breath, focusing on the shivery sensation. "There!" She said eyes snapping open to look at her hand. She twisted her head until she could see Scabior's inky eyes. He was smirking when he met her gaze, his jutted his chin to the left of them.

"Bella's that way."

Hermione jumped up, untangling herself from Scabior and taking a few steps in the direction he'd indicated. "Should we-"

"No." He said flatly.

"But we could just take a look! We don't have to do anything! Just see where she is." She said, taking another few steps away from him.

Scabior climbed to his feet, hand extended. "Give me it." His voice was hard.

"No, I won't." Hermione narrowed her eyes.

His jaw ticked in annoyance. "Yer give me the Crystal or I'll take it."

Hermione's bared her teeth in outrage, "You mean you'll try." She scoffed.

Scabior took a step forward, "Don't push me on this. Now give me the crystal."

"Why?"

A long moment passed in which he didn't speak, merely looked at her. And then the sneer of old returned to his face, "Because I'm askin' fer it."

"Well if that's the only reason you want it then-"

"It ain't the only reason!" Scabior snapped taking three angry strides towards her, "I just don't want yer runnin' off without me!"

Hermione's rising temper fizzled into nothing, "I won't do that." She said gently.

Scabior crossed his arms, "I know yer won't cause yer gonna give me the crystal."

And her temper came thundering back. Arms matching his own crossed ones. "I told you I won't run off. I'm not stupid you know." She tried to soften her tone, to take away the bossy edge that she knew he disliked. "Bella's dangerous. I know that more than anyone, and I promise you that I won't go after her alone."

"Then yer won't mind givin' me the crystal." He said, voice flat.

Hermione's grip tightened to the point that the sharp edges threatened to pierce her skin, "You don't trust me."

His silence was all the answer she needed. The sour taste of disappointment filled her mouth. How were they supposed to make a go of whatever it was they had, if there was no trust between them? Her eyes dropped from his. No longer able to look at him. A few seconds passed in which neither of them spoke. And then his booted feet came into view.

Hermione heard him take a breath, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the arrival of a half-formed Patronus.

"Granger, Kingsley's been arrested. Harry wants to see you. Meet me by The Black Lake tonight. Midnight." George's voice emerged from the silvery mist.

A sliver of ice dropped down Hermione's spine as her eyes darted to Scabior. "I...will you come with me?" She hesitantly asked.

The Snatcher nodded. A sharp movement that did nothing to warm the coolness coating his face. Hermione swallowed, feeling oddly confused and alone. She didn't understand why he was so intent on having the crystal. Realizing that there were more important things happening than who was holding the tracking device, she tossed him the Crystal. His pale hand plucked it out of the air.

"Here. Take it if my word isn't enough for you." Her voice came out bitter and drenched with hurt.

"Ermione." Rough and demanding.

But she was already walking away, "I need to be alone." She spat out, heading to the bottom of the field. When she realized he wasn't following, her face screwed up in anger. Didn't the stupid prat understand that she hadn't actually _wanted_ him to leave her alone? Didn't he know that he was supposed to follow her? She peeked over her shoulder to see him scowling at the ground, hands shoved in his pockets and muttering to himself.

Hermione found the perfect place to sulk. Just by the corner of the overgrown field and behind a waist high tuft of grass. She indulged herself in pity for a few minutes before pushing her problems with Scabior to the back of her mind and switching her attention to George's message. Kingsley's arrest was worrying. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before they discovered the Dark magic he'd cast on Scabior. And when that came out, they wouldn't bother with a trial and they'd likely throw away the key. She even had doubts that the Order would be willing to help him.

She closed her eyes, tipping back onto the scratchy grass. Worry and panic lodged in her stomach and throat. Usually, she would be able to think herself into a calmer state. List all the ways that the problem could be fixed. But she was just so tired that all she wanted to do was either cry or run from the magical world and never look back.

Not that she'd have anywhere to go. The chance of finding her parents again would be next to impossible. And even if she did, she wouldn't be able to restore their memories. They were lost to her forever. A tear seeped out of her closed lid to trickle into her hair.

"Don't cry Love." Scabior's rough voice reached her ears.

Hermione huffed out a breath, "I'm not."

A fingertip touched the wet tear track. "Then what's this?"

She opened her eyes to see him laying beside her, head propped on his hand. She didn't answer him, merely watched him silently until he grimaced.

"Yer gonna make me say it, ain't yer?" He muttered.

Hermione smiled softly, "Only if you want to."

Scabior pulled in a sharp breath, eyebrows puckered in annoyance. "Sorry." His eyes stared into hers intently. "You're still not avin' the crystal."

Hermione studied him for a long moment, knowing that sorry wasn't a word he would usually choose to utter. "Okay." She reached out to soothe his rumpled forehead, "You can trust me Scabior. Always."

"I know Love. I just don't want yer to get hurt." He said, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

"Me either." She said, "But until this is finished, it'll be a possibility and I'd much rather you were by my side helping than trying to hide me away."

The Snatcher's lips tightened into a grim line, "yer right."

Hermione smiled gently, "I wish I wasn't." She pulled him down so he was laying on top of her. "I think we just had our first fight." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "Which means we now have to make up. Unless you don't want to?"

He rubbed his stiffening erection against her hip, "Oh, I definitely want ter Pet."

They spent the next few hours apologizing to each other with soft kisses and slow caresses. Forgetting the world existed as they explored and teased, if only for a short time, before reality came tumbling back down on them.

* * *

The Black Lake was so smooth it looked like a pane of glass, as Hermione and Scabior waited for George to meet them. By unspoken agreement, they chose to wait amongst the trees that edged the lake. Hermione noted that Scabior was back to his usual Snatcher self. On edge and curiously still. Eyes constantly searching the area that surrounded them. Face almost blank.

It was a good thing that he was keeping watch, because all Hermione could focus on was the broken down silhouette of Hogwarts in the distance. The repairs were going well, but there was still a long way to go before it would be returned to its former glory. But at least the dorms were fixed and from what she could see the Great Hall as well.

"Yer okay Beautiful?"

Hermione jumped in fright and spun to face Scabior, "Yes, it's just so sad seeing Hogwarts like that." She tilted her head, "I never really had time to take it all in during the battle."

Scabior turned his dark gaze to the half-built ruins, "Hmm. Can't say I'm that bothered meself."

"You didn't like school?" She said walking closer, curious about a younger Scabior.

The Snatcher scoffed, "Did I fuck, too many walls, too many rules. Couldn't wait ter be rid of the place."

Hermione smiled, "I'd go back in a heartbeat. I don't mind walls and I love rules."

"Breakin' a few of 'em now though ain't yer, Pet." He said smirking and pulling her in for a kiss. His hands swept up her back to hold her head in place as his lips and tongue devoured her mouth.

Then suddenly he withdrew, head snapping to the side. Eyes tracking a movement she couldn't see. A second passed in which he stood. A frozen tense statue. Then his hands dropped from her head, the tension left his body and a sneer curled his lip. Hermione raised her eyebrows in question, as he eased his body against a thick trunk with arrogant grace.

"Yer little friends Pet." He said tipping his head to the side.

Hermione glanced in the direction he'd indicated to see Harry and George, stumbling towards them. She immediately ran to greet them, pulling them both into a fierce hug.

"What on earth are you doing out of bed?" She whispered, pulling away and switching her gaze from one to the other.

"He took a false strength potion," George said, not able to look her in the eye.

Hermione's lips tightened, but she didn't have the heart to shout at them, "Are you okay?"

Harry dropped his eyes to the leaf littered ground, "I've been better." He murmured.

Hermione reached forward to hold his hand, "I'm here for you," She switched her gaze to George, "Both of you. Don't pretend that you're okay if you're not."

Harry's hand squeezed hers desperately, "Mione, I can't-" His voice choked off as he fought to control his emotions.

She pulled him into another hug, this time whispering soft words of reassurance into his ear. It was all that was needed to break through his composure and allow his grief to pour out. She was dimly aware of George snuffling somewhere to the side, and she wished she had another pair of arms to hold him with. She looked passed Harry's hair to see Scabior still leaning against the tree. Studying his nails with an air of disinterest.

After a few seconds of her intent stare, he looked up. She jabbed her chin at George pointedly. Scabior's face screwed up in distaste. Hermione mouthed the word 'please' and the Snatcher relented, rolling his eyes and striding towards him.

He slapped George on the back with enough force to make the redhead stumble forward, "Suck it up, Weasley."

Hermione huffed into Harry's neck but then blinked when George seemed to gather himself and follow the Snatcher's advice.

Harry was muttering into her neck, then suddenly he pulled away, "She has to die. Bella I mean." Harry said, shaking with repressed rage.

"Harry-"

"No!" He slashed his hand through the air, "She dies."

Hermione crossed her arms as Harry worked himself into a fit, listing every reason that Bella deserved to die. She agreed with every one of them. "Are you quite finished?" She said, the bossy Hermione returning to the surface.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "You're not changing my mind." He snapped.

"And what about me?" She asked, "With Bella dead, there'll be no proof that it was her who killed Ginny and not me."

George came forward to stand next to Harry, "We'll have them use truth serum on you."

"Before or after they arrest me?" Hermione asked, noticing Scabior making his way towards her. "And whose to say the Ministry will believe it? They think I'm in on it with Kingsley for goodness sake!"

"You'll be fine." Harry said, wavering slightly on his feet, "We'll stick by you." But he didn't sound sure.

"And what about Kingsley? Are the Order standing by him?" She said.

George scuffed a hand through his hair nervously, "They accused him of using Dark Magic, Granger. And he didn't deny it."

Hermione shared a look with Scabior. "I know." Seeing Harry's confused look, she elaborated, "It was a curse we used to bind Scabior's magic."

"We?" He asked, anger creeping into his tone. "You used Dark Magic?"

She shook her head, "Kingsley performed the curse. But if he hadn't then I would have."

"Then you'll be fine, they can't arrest you for saying that you would have done something," Harry said.

Scabior stepped up beside her, "And if yer have? What then Potter?"

Harry scrubbed a hand down his face in irritation, "But she hasn't."

"I used it for something else Harry." Hermione murmured.

Silence. A long uncomfortable silence.

"What for?" George asked softly.

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly. "A tracking Crystal and the Imperius on Archie."

"Mione," Harry said, staring at her like she'd grown another head.

Scabior scoffed, "Save yer judgement, Potter," His arm brushed Hermione's in a deliberate show of support, "Minute's ago yer were talkin' of killin' Bella and now yer poutin' cause she had the guts ter do what it takes ter finish this."

Harry at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "I...Sorry, Mione."

Hermione sighed, " It's okay Harry," She grimaced, "and at least we now have a way of finding Bella. If we catch her alive, maybe we can make a deal with the Ministry on Kingsley's behalf. Have his sentence reduced or even have the charges against him dropped altogether."

George was scowling, but Harry looked indecisive. "They won't agree." He said.

Hermione nodded her head, "But we have to try. We can't just leave Kingsley to rot after everything he's done for us."

Harry turned exhausted eyes to the Black Lake, "You're right, but what can we do?"

"Well, for starters you can go back to bed and rest." She raised her hand before he could reply, "Harry, you're so tired that you're swaying on your feet! I need you strong." She switched her gaze to George, "Find out everything you can about the charges the Ministry is laying against him."

Harry tugged on her arm, "I want to be there when you go after Bella."

"And me!" George yelped.

"This ain't a fuckin' party!" Scabior muttered.

Harry pushed past Hermione to stand chest to chest with the Snatcher, "You have no say in this, and if you think I'll trust you to be the only one there when Hermione goes after Bella, then you're mistaken."

Scabior sneered, tilting his head so he could look down his nose at Harry, "I'll keep her safe."

Harry barked out a laugh, "No you won't"

Malice flashed across the Snatcher's face and Hermione stepped in before he said something that would make Harry loose his temper. "Hermione will look after herself!" She snapped, thumping them both on the arm.

She spun away from them and stomped her way over to George. He at least had the sense to look a little alarmed as she pulled him into a tight hug, "Take care of him." she drew back and kissed him on the cheek, "And yourself."

She then turned and made her way back to Harry and Scabior. "Rest." She ordered before pulling him into a hug, "I'll tell you when we go after Bella." she pressed her lips to his ear, "I promise. How's Ron?"

His arms came around her waist, "He's angry."

Hermione nodded, aware of the grumbling Snatcher beside her. "I have to go." She whispered, drawing back. "Please rest Harry."

"I can't just do nothing!" He muttered.

Hermione frowned, "Then go to the library and find a spell to help replenish your magic."

"Do you think they'll be one?" He said.

She shrugged, "You won't know if you don't look."

"Yeah. Suppose so." He said, eyes loosing focus.

Hermione gestured for George, "Now back to Hogwarts."

They hugged a few more times before leaving the edge of the Lake. George and Harry to Hogwarts. Hermione and Scabior to his hut.

* * *

 **(Sorry for the delay in posting, I haven't had time to turn around lately, never mind write, but I'm hoping to go back to weekly posting next week :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**I want to thank you all for continuing to read this fic. And especially to those of you who've reviewed and added me to their lists. Truly. Thank you. A few of you know that I've got some time on my hands for the next couple of months. So I'm hoping to have this completed by then. But I'm going to be hugely sad to see it end. Which is why I've decided to do a collection of one-shots. And as a thanks to you guys, I'll write whatever scene it is you'd like to see. (For example; how about Hermione meeting Scabior's Snatcher friends? Or and awkward Weasley dinner? Whatever you request I'll write. And don't forget to let me know if you want smut included :)**

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Chapter Twenty Three

Confusion filled Kingsley Shacklebolt's head. He was in pain. A lot of pain. His bones throbbed horribly and his muscles felt like they'd been fed through a meat grinder. And then chopped into little pieces before being glued back together again. Only for it to happen again. But the main problem was that he didn't know _why_ he was in so much pain. Or more precisely. He couldn't _remember_ why or even how. When he tried to recall what had happened to him, his head began filling with fog. Thick, evasive and headache inducing. He knew why that was of course. He was suffering from the effects of a badly cast Obliviate. He'd had a memory erased many years ago, so he knew what it felt like. He had the feeling that this one had been cast badly on purpose. A further way to punish him.

Adjusting himself on the thin mattress, which was really little better than a sheet of cardboard, Kingsley thought back to the previous day. The betrayal of his supposed friends still left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd misjudged them. All of them. He'd never know how they had the audacity to look in his eyes. Not when he knew that they used magic many would consider dark. But it was Pippit's deception that hurt the most. That cold, calculated look the Auror had given him had sent a stream of ice down his spine that hadn't yet thawed.

Pippit was also the last face he remembered seeing before his brain threw up the dirty fog, and his memories became indistinct and hazy. In all likely hood, Pippit was the reason he was in pain in the first place. But what he didn't understand was why. The Auror already knew most, if not all of his secrets. So what then was the reason behind his torture? Because Kingsley had no doubt that he had indeed been made to suffer. And badly if the echo's of pain he was feeling were any indication. Maybe it was a blessing that he couldn't remember it after all.

He tipped back his head, staring at the rust stained ceiling above him. Waiting. His raw throat aching with every breath he took. For a while, he stayed that way, lost in his own thoughts. Listening to the never-ending screams of his fellow inmates. Wondering when the time would come for his own voice to join theirs.

Kingsley didn't know how long he lay there. It could've been minutes or it could've been hours. But eventually, he heard the scrape of footsteps just outside his door. And then the ear-splitting creak of the steel door swinging open. Followed by the dull thud as it was released. He kept his gaze resolutely fixed above him. Never once letting his eyes stray to the side. To the man he knew had entered the room.

"I'm not disturbing you am I?" Pippit's cool voice asked him with feigned interest.

Kingsley curled his lip in disgust, "As a matter of fact you are." He pushed himself into a sitting position. Breath held against the pain.

The young Auror gave a small meaningless smile, "Then I'll be sure to conclude my business as quickly as possible."

Shacklebolt inclined his head, "If you wouldn't mind."

The first curse hit him on the left side of his ribs, a cutting hex that split his skin and muscle in two. Blood seeped free, soaking into his robes and then onto the bed. A hiss was the only sound he made as he stared defiantly at Pippit. "Is that all you've got?" He muttered through clenched teeth.

The young Auror gave a delighted grin, "I was saving the best until the end, but if you're eager to experience it now, then I'm more than willing to comply."

Kingsley bared his teeth, "Then by all means. Continue."

The second hex parted the skin on his right cheek. The third broke his right thigh. The forth his left. After that, he lost count of the spells cast. The pain spilling into him. Blocking out everything but the need to breathe and whimper. At no point did Pippit ask him a single question. Not one. Soon his screams joined those of the other inmates.

A brief lull for Pippit to study his injuries.

"What is it you want from me?" Kinglsey gasped after Pippit had fixed all of his broken bones. Only to begin breaking them again.

Pippit paused, an almost confused smile curling his lip, "From you? I want nothing."

"Then why?"

"Ah," Pippit said, dropping his wand to his side and contemplating Kingsley's blood coated chest, "You're part of my plan. An important part as it happens."

Kingsley didn't have the chance to ask anything else. As Pippit chose that moment to continue the torture. Splitting his skin, breaking his bones. Damaging his internal organs. Taking particular care when he came to the palm of his left hand. Bisecting the scar he'd earned from the cursed blade he'd used to bind Scabior's magic. Pippit murmured something too low for Kingsley to hear. A spell of some sort. And then began the long process of healing his body. One limb at a time.

Once he was finished. A brief blessed moment passed in which Kingsley was pain-free. His eyes closed in relief, only to snap open a second later. He glanced down to see the tip of Pippit's wand digging into his palm. A vicious look crossed the Auror's face as he spoke a single word.

"Exhaurire!" Latin meaning; drain.

Kingsley's eyes widened as he felt the pull of magic through his skin. His magic. Being suck free from his palm. His teeth clenched as a new kind of pain assaulted his senses. A more intense soul-shredding pain. He almost lost consciousness as the magic was drained from his body. It felt like Velcro being ripped free. Tearing at his insides with a million tiny hooks.

And then it stopped.

He blinked. Tears spilling down his cheeks as he fought to remain aware. Awake. A finger touched his chin, pressing hard, turning his head to the side. Pippit's cool eyes stared into his own.

"Obliviate." He whispered, stealing Kingsley's memories of the last twenty minutes, before leaving the cell without once looking back.

Kinglsey lay back on the bed. Confusion a solid presence inside his head. He was in pain. A lot of pain. But he didn't remember why.

* * *

Bella wrinkled her nose in distaste at the book she was reading. Somewhere hidden in its pages there was supposed to be a spell. A skin melting spell that she thought sounded very interesting. If only she could bloody well find it. But all she could see were a jumble of words that wouldn't arrange themselves into any kind of order. Of course, she could always ask Pippit to show her; he was due to visit later. But he had no patience for teaching and his lessons often ended in pain. And she wanted the spell now.

She took one more resentful look a the crumpled yellow pages before slamming the book closed and throwing it across the room. It landed with a thud, the spine dented. Bella crossed her arms, sulkily eyeing the damaged book. Pippit would be furious but she could always tell him that Wormtail had done it. The stinking rat deserved to suffer some pain. Only this morning he'd looked at her in a most unpleasant way. The one where his beady little eyes had darted to her face before dropping to her feet. She'd barely managed to prevent herself from removing his other hand for that insolence. But before she could come up with another more suitable punishment, the filthy thing had disappeared.

She scowled at the memory. Rage seeping into her body. Finding that spell would calm down her rising temper. She could practice it on the Rat and then she wouldn't be mad anymore. Decision made she jumped to her feet. Skipping her way towards the book.

Ten minutes later it was back on the floor. Another dent marring its spine. Bella was instead caressing the small vial that contained Ron's memories. Slowly running the cool glass back and forth across her lips. Using her fingertip to brush down its length. A soft look gracing her face as she remembered that glorious day.

"Mother?"

Bella jumped, dropping the vial onto her chest in fright, "Pippit!" She said, clapping her hands together in glee, "Is it done?"

Pippit stepped further into the room, "The first part at least."

"Did it work?"

A small grin tugged at his lips, "Yes."

Bella climbed to her feet and began dancing around the room. Black hair sweeping around as she turned. Twice she circled before coming to a stop in front of Pippit, slightly out of breath. Her eyes blinked owlishly at him, "how long before I can play?"

"Soon." He said, "Go to the house we spoke of and wait."

Bella pouted, "how long will I have to wait?"

"As long as it takes," he snapped, eyes flashing a silent warning. "Hermione and her Snatcher will find you soon enough, and until she does you will not move from that house."

"But then?" Bella whined, "I'll get to play then won't I?"

Pippit inclined his head, dark hair spilling onto his forehead, "Yes. Then you can play."

Bella shifted on her feet, hands nervously playing with the seam of the skirt, "Will it be a long wait? You know I'm not good with waiting."

"I've already fed some information to the Weasley twin." He smirked, "It'll be days rather than weeks. Take Pettigrew with you, he should keep you entertained until they arrive."

A devious smile settled upon Bella's lips. "Yes. That would be perfect." She wrapped her arms around her waist. "Just perfect."

* * *

 **Hmm, the plot thickens. I'll have another chapter ready to post next Thursday. Don't forget to read and review :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Sorry for the delay. Pesky real life got in the way. Should be back to updating all fics next week. :) Thanks to all who continue to review and to those who have added me to their lists.**

 **Warning for Smut.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty Four

"How long are we waiting 'ere for?" Scabior muttered glaring at the silent Burrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Until George arrives." She said switching her gaze from the leafy canopy of the tree they were waiting under, and towards the Snatcher.

"Fuckin' Weasley." He said pulling out a tuft of grass and throwing it at her.

She smiled at his petulance, "What's wrong?"

"Waitin' fucks up my 'ead." His inky eyes flicked around the overgrown garden. Never settling in one place for more than a second. His agitation showing in his fidgeting hands and restless eyes.

"Your language is atrocious," Hermione said, reclining back onto her elbows and giving him a disapproving glare.

Scabior twisted onto his side, a slow smile curving his lips. "Yer don't say that when I'm whisperin' nasty words in yer ear Pet."

Hermione blushed, "I don't mind it then." She muttered unable to meet his smug gaze. And unwilling to discuss how his crudeness sometimes turned her on.

He leant across the small distance to place his forehead against hers. Fingers dancing across the waist of her jeans. "Yer wanna play?"

"George will be here any second." She said, pushing his roaming hand from beneath her jumper.

Scabior tipped his head back, eyeing her coolly. "Yer don't want 'im ter see us?"

"I don't want him to see us doing the things you have in mind." She said, threading her fingers through his, "I'm not ashamed of you Scabior. And I'm not going to hide what we have. But I am asking that we keep it to ourselves for a little while longer. I don't want Harry worrying about me. Not when he's still grieving for Ginny."

The Snatcher grunted, "So it's ter be our dirty secret then?"

"I just told you it wasn't!" Hermione said exasperated, "If you really want me to tell them then I will."

Scabior sneered, "Do what yer want. Yer will anyway."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his temper. Sometimes he could be so prickly it was a wonder she didn't have puncture wounds after talking to him. She watched as he lay on his back. Hands behind his head. Eyes tracking the dancing leaves. Hermione smiled as his lips puckered in annoyance. But he couldn't prevent the almost smile that emerged when she traced the line of his nose with her fingertip. He huffed out a surprised breath when she straddled him.

"Thought yer didn't want the Weasley brat ter see us." He murmured bucking his hips up against her. "And yer better not be startin' somethin' yer not gonna finish."

Hermione rolled off him and to the side, "Merlin you're annoying."

"Still fancy me though Love, don't yer?" He said twisting his head to the side so he could look at her.

She gave him a shy smile and nodded. "Do you? Like me I mean."

A wicked grin stretched his lips. Teeth flashing white. "Wouldn't be fuckin' yer if I didn't."

Hermione's stomach dipped at his words. As gentle heat rushed into her cheeks. In an almost shy move, she pressed forward to kiss him. Hesitating when she heard the crack of Apparation a few feet away. She saw Scabior lean back, a resigned look crossing his sharp features. He thought she was going to pull away. Probably still believing that despite her words, she was ashamed of being seen with him. Reaching out she curved her hand around his neck. Pulling him towards her. Surprise widened his eyes before her lips crashed into his.

She kissed him, letting her tongue dip into his warm mouth. Her fingers slipping into the tangled hair on the back of his head. Holding him in place. A cough sounded above them. She ignored it. Continuing to kiss Scabior. A wet shifting of lips. To let him know that she wasn't ashamed of him. That what they'd done wasn't a mistake. And never would be.

Another more forceful cough. This one sounding like an attempt was being made to scrape the flesh off the back of a throat.

Scabior's lips formed the shape of a smile against her mouth. Before pulling away to give George a lazy look. "Somethin' wrong Weasley?"

"Umm." The red-faced George was shifting about awkwardly. A hand rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to catch Hermione's eye. "Granger?" He said uncertainly.

Hermione forced herself to look at him. Hoping the blush covering her cheeks wasn't too deep. "Scabior and I are...well...we're...umm." She cast the Snatcher a desperate look. Which the nasty sod pretended not to see.

Switching her attention back to George she lifted her chin defiantly. "We're together now." Her eyes narrowed as she dared him to say something. When he remained silent she asked, "Are Harry and Ron okay?"

"Yeah." He shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes shifting between her and Scabior, "Dad thinks he knows a way to get a message to Kingsley."

Hermione scrambled to her feet, "How?" She stepped towards him, embarrassment forgotten.

"There's an Auror at the Ministry. He's been assigned to Kingsley's case. Dad said he's willing to pass on a message. We might even be able to convince him to help Kingsley escape." George ruffled his hand through his hair, still discomforted but determined to ignore it.

"That's great." Hermione said, "Which Auror?"

"Hmm. Poppet?"

"Pippit." Hermione corrected, "I know him. He's really nice." She ignored Scabior's quiet growl. "Are the Order willing to help as well?"

George give her a wry look, "They don't believe what the ministry's accusing him of is true."

She grimaced, wondering what their reaction would be when they learned that Kingsley was, in fact, guilty of the crimes laid against him. Hermione doubted very much that they'd see it as a necessary evil that she had. "So what's the plan?"

"We've given Pippit a message to give to Kingsley." George shrugged. Lanky shoulders almost touching his ears, "for now. We wait."

"That's a shit plan," Scabior said from his place on the ground.

George gave him a sour look, "Yeah. Well. It's all we've got." He snapped out, eyes narrowing, "And it's not like your doing any better finding Bella and Pettigrew."

Scabior sneered, "Yer open yer mouth again Weasley an' my fist will shut it."

"You can try," George said. Hands clenched by his side. The famous Weasley temper threatening to erupt.

When Scabior began climbing to his feet, Hermione stepped forward and between them, "That's enough."

"It's fine Pet." The Snatcher placed his arm over Hermione's shoulder in a possessive gesture, "The Weasley brat's just measurin' his balls."

George's nostrils flared indignantly, "Yeah. Well. They're bigger than yours."

Scabior shrugged nonchalantly, "Ermione 'ere seems satisfied with the size." He grinned as the witch beside him spluttered out a breath, "An' didn't yer mother ever tell yer it's rude to brag." He said to George's flabbergasted look.

"Stop it." Hermione hissed, thumping the back of her fist against the Snatcher's chest. She just knew her face was bright red. It felt hotter than the sun. And she was willing to bet it would leave George's flushed outrage in the dust.

"Granger I want to speak to you," George said blue eyes narrowing on the grinning Snatcher. "Alone." He added tipping his head towards the Burrow.

Hermione nodded her head before Scabior could open his mouth and say something more outrageous. Shrugging her way free of his arm, she gave him a dirty look. Which he answered with a wink and began to follow George. They walked to a shadowed wall. Next to the kitchen window. Each of them leaning back against the rough stone. Avoiding eye contact.

"So." George began, scuffing his foot back and forth on the dirt nervously, "you and him?"

Hermione's eyes darted to the Snatcher. He was propped against the tree trunk, thumbs tucked in the waist of his pants, dark eyes looking their way. "Yeah." She said.

"But Mione, he's-"

Hermione's gaze snapped to George, "I know what he is." Her eyes traced his face, "And I can list you a thousand reasons why I shouldn't be with him."

George was silent for a long second. Contemplating the patterns his toes had drawn, "Can you give me a reason why you should be with him?"

A genuine smile crossed her face. Eyes shading to whiskey brown. "He makes me happy."

The redhead gave her a look that seemed to see right into her soul. Whatever he saw there made him nod his head. "Okay then." A mischievous look crept onto his face. "Harry and Ron are going to shit a brick when they find out."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, "Don't be crude." She gently admonished.

"What?" George threw her an incredulous look, "After what he said back there? You're gonna say that to me?"

The blush returned to her cheeks, "Ah, yeah. Can we just forget that he said any of that stuff?" She muttered, dropping her eyes to his chest.

"Yeah. I never wanna think about his, uh, things, again." He huffed out a laugh, "Did you hear him when he told me it was rude to brag?"

Hermione chuckled, "Yes! He can be such a prat." She shook her head. A fond look softening the lines of her face as she looked at the Snatcher.

"Just be careful okay?" George said.

The serious edge to his voice had Hermione whipping around to look at him. "I will." She reached out to softly brush her fingers along the back of his hand. "He won't hurt me." Her lips twitched into an evil smirk, "and if he does, then I'll rip off those balls he apparently doesn't brag about."

A huge booming laugh bubbled up from his chest. "Granger," A gasped breath, "he hasn't got a clue what he's let himself in for!"

Hermione giggled. Pressing a hand to her mouth as she watched George clutch his stomach. It took several minutes for them to stop laughing. Each starting afresh when they caught the others eye. Or happened to glance at the clearly annoyed Scaboir. Eventually, they stopped. An easy silence falling between them. They stood like that for a while. Listening to the distant birdsong.

But then a sigh fell from George's lips, "I should be getting back."

"You'll tell me what happens with Kingsley and Pippit?" She said.

He nodded, pulling her into an awkward hug. "Take care of yourself Mione."

Hermione smiled as he ambled away. Giving Scabior the single fingered salute as he went. She waited until the faint pop of him Apparating sounded before making her slow way back to the Snatcher. He watched her approach with a narrow-eyed look the entire time.

"Yer seemed jolly back there Treasure." He said cocking his head to the side quizzically.

Hermione hummed her agreement. Walking forward until she was pressed against him. Head tucked beneath his chin. Arms circling his waist. The leaves rustled noisily above, but she could still hear his slow measured breaths. A soft kiss brushed the side of her head where hair met skin. And then a second, more insistent one, travelled along her jaw. Cool fingertips crept beneath her jumper to stroke feather light touches against her back.

It wasn't enough. Those barely-there caresses inflaming her sudden desire. Hermione mewed her displeasure, reaching up to fist her hands in Scabior's hair. The last thing she saw was his smirk before she yanked his mouth onto hers. Sliding her lips against his, sucking on his tongue, bucking her hips against him desperately. She groaned when he slid his hands down the back of her thighs, hooking around her knees, tugging them up and around his waist. A groan fell from her lips when he pushed her forcefully back against the tree trunk. Slamming his pelvis into hers. Dropping his lips to her neck and kiss biting his way to her throbbing pulse.

Hermione was frantically gasping when his hands yanked her jumper up and tossed it aside. Rough bark scraped her back. Which she instantly forgot about the moment his clever lips closed around a lace clad nipple. Rolling it between his teeth and lips. Her head thumped back as her hands clutched at his head. Wanting more. Wanting everything.

"Are yer wet Love?" Scabior said, hot breath brushing the swell of her breast.

She bent her head until her lips touched his ear, "Yes." It was the closest thing to dirty talk he'd ever get from her. And even that one whispered word was enough to make her blush a furious red.

The Snatcher murmured his approval, pulling her closer to ward off the chill air. The entire time he continued to grind his hips against hers. A slow languid move that rubbed her in the most delicious way. Watching her reaction through half-lidded eyes. The longer he stared at her the more impatient Hermione became. Heat pooling between her legs, pulsing with the need to be filled. Touched.

"Scabior." Hermione pleaded dropping her legs from his waist, "Stop teasing me."

A throaty chuckle, "this ain't teasin' Love." His hands dropped to the fastening of her jeans, "but I can show yer what is."

Her fingers clenched his shoulders as he lowered her pants, quickly removing her boots so he could take her jeans completely off. Then he sat back, legs stretched out, arms braced behind him. Hermione shivered as his dark gaze swept over her, a lazy smile curving his lips. She made to cover herself, discomforted at being looked at so intently in just her underwear.

"Don't," Scabior said, eyes continuing to follow the line of her body down to her feet. Then slowly tracking back up again.

Hermione nibbled her lip determined to stay still beneath his gaze. But then a cool gust of wind blew against her, "Hurry up! It's bloody cold."

Scabior smirked, "I can see that." He drawled, inky eyes fixed on her pebbled nipples.

The witch tutted, giving him a sour look before reaching down to grasp her jumper. Only before she could pick it up, the Snatcher grabbed her, flipping her onto her back and settling on top of her.

"No need fer that Love. I'll warm yer up better than that jumper will." He spoke the words into the skin of her neck. Both a promise and apology.

Hermione smiled gently, looping her arms around his neck, "Aren't you going to take anything off?"

"Nah." He pushed away from her, "Someone might come along an' I ain't gettin' caught with my pants down."

"But it's okay for them to see me nude?" Hermione said.

Scabior gave a feral smile, "I'll cover yer up." He gently inched down, settling his weight on top of her. Slotting a knee between her legs.

She sighed when he began to kiss her shoulder. Before dropping lower to pepper her chest. His fingers trailed down her stomach to play with the edge of her knickers. Running back and forth before slipping beneath to cup her mound. Hermione gasped, hips shifting restlessly. Trying to make him touch her where she most needed it.

"Somethin' wrong Love?" Scabior murmured against the skin of her stomach. "Yer seem a bit antsy."

Hermione instantly stilled. "No." When she glanced down the length of her body at his smug face, she couldn't prevent the mischievous glint from showing in her eyes, "It's hardly my fault you can't satisfy me properly is it?"

"Oh, Pet. It's like yer want me ter punish yer." He smiled fondly as he pushed himself to his knees. Before slowly hooking his fingers beneath the elastic of her knickers and dragging them down and off.

As soon as she was bare Hermione made to close her legs, but Scabior grabbed her thighs, preventing the move. His dark inky eyes stared at her wet folds. She immediately made to shift away, embarrassment making her uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny. The cool air did nothing to calm the heat coating her cheeks or pooling between her legs. It was almost a relief when he slowly bent down to lick her. A long searching exploration that touched everywhere but where she wanted.

"Scabior." Hermione groaned, trying to tilt and wriggle her hips at the same time. "Just...please."

The Snatcher grinned, deliberately avoiding her clit. Although he did blow a soft breath against it. Which made her whimper and clench against his teasing fingers. And then finally he latched onto her pulsing nub. Sucking and kissing until her eyes rolled back as an orgasm overtook her. It was over quickly. But Scabior didn't stop his ministrations. Continuing to lick and mouth her sensitive flesh.

Hermione whimpered. The feeling too intense to be truly pleasurable. Both trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time. Ten seconds in and she was wailing like a Banshee. Quivering and shaking. Skin sweat slicked and tingling. Her hips began to cant upwards, thrusting against his mouth. Orgasm number two seconds away.

"Ah!" She panted.

And Scabior stopped. Pulling away from her to fumble at his pants. Hermione blinked, the loss of sensation like a bucket of ice water tipped onto her skin. Then the Snatcher was back on top, hovering close, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. She complied eagerly, crossing her ankles at the small of his back, and looping her arms around his neck to pull him nearer.

"Hurry." She urged, digging her nails into his scalp.

Scabior muttered something unintelligible under his breath before slamming inside her with one rough move. He set a relentless pace, sliding into her with just enough force to leave her breathless. Dragging out until just the tip of him was engulfed in her heat and then pounding back in. Shunting her across the ground and releasing the scent of earth and crushed grass.

Hermione squeezed her eyes closed, lip held between her teeth as she concentrated on the feel of him filling her so completely. She groaned when he ceased to move. Pausing deep inside of her.

"Put yer feet down an' tilt yer hips Love." He whispered into the skin of her neck.

Hermione did as asked, placing her feet next to his thighs and angling her pelvis towards him. The new position caused him to bump her clit every time he thrust into her. But he didn't stop at that. He ground himself into her, not stopping until his balls slapped her.

"They big enough fer yer Pet?"

Hermione huffed out a laugh, "You're impossible!"

Scabior hummed his agreement as he began to thrust inside her again. A quick pace that had her panting in seconds. The muscles in her thighs began to shake as she fought to keep in position. But she didn't care. It felt good and she could feel the tension building as another orgasm began to overtake her. Her head fell back, eyes snapping shut as she clenched around Scabior's cock. Pulsing and rippling uncontrollably as she came. He didn't stop moving the entire time.

Not even when her arms and legs flopped to the side. Absolutely wrung out and still quivering with little aftershocks. Although she did manage to press her lips to his throat when the rhythm of his thrusts increased and he finally came with a roar. He fell on top of her; still fully clothed, breath sawing in and out.

"Yer wanna go again?"

Hermione whimpered, "Only if it means I don't have to move."

In the end, neither of them was able to move for at least ten minutes. Exhaustion weighing them down. And when they did manage to force their limbs into action, it was so they could Apparate and sleep off the rest of the day in Scabior's hut.

* * *

 **Please leave me your thoughts. I love to read them and they honestly make me write faster ;)**


	25. Chapter 25

Enjoy :)

Chapter Twenty Five

It was two days before they heard from George again. Even then it was just a brief message stating that Pippit wanted to meet them. Scabior wasn't sure what to think about that. He didn't trust easily. Or at all really. And he'd yet to meet this Auror and form his own opinion on the wanker. Although Hermione had said that he was one of the good guys. She'd said that if Kingsley trusted him then so could they. Scabior wasn't convinced.

He tipped his head down to look at her. She was sleeping. Wild hair acting as a pillow, a slight smile curving her lips. She'd remain like that for the next few hours. Just as she had the previous two nights. He'd made sure to slip her a little sleeping potion after he'd fucked her. Not enough to completely knock her out; she'd still wake if someone called out her name, but enough so that he could sneak out without her knowing he was gone. Of course, she'd be completely furious if she ever found out. But Scabior had no intention of ever telling her.

The Snatcher slowly untangled himself from her legs and arms. Inching away from her heat. For a minute he remained standing above her; staring at the pale blur her face made in the darkness. She looked so peaceful. And angel he didn't deserve. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep in her arms. Breathe in her scent. Even as the thought entered his mind, he shook it away. The more time he spent with her the soppier he became. If he wasn't careful he'd be buying her chocolates and flowers and declaring his love by the end of the month. He dreaded to think what his Snatcher mates would say. Turning away he quickly dressed, making as little noise as possible. Relying on touch rather than sight. Before leaving he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Lingering a moment to take in a lungful of her scent.

He gave her one last look, then quietly left, closing and warding the door behind him. Once outside he stood on the step letting the night air soothe his skin. The darkness felt like a cool embrace. He pursed his lips, reached into his pocket and took out the crystal. It sat like a piece of ice in the palm of his hand. A heavy weight that tugged at him. In a rough move, he closed his fingers around it. Letting the sharp edges bite into his skin. Slowly; as he'd shown Hermione, he moved his hand back and forth. Waiting for the tiny pulse that would tell him which direction Bella was hiding in. North. The same as last night. And the one before that.

Scabior had tracked her to a deserted farmhouse on the Scottish borders. A run down building, surrounded by weed and covered in ivy. The place had been warded to the point where he hadn't dared get too close. Worried that they'd flare if he tried to sneak through. But he knew she was inside. Both her and the rat. He remained in place, wondering if he should Apparate to check on them. To see if they were still there. But his Snatcher sense told him they were, so he saw little point in risking it.

His biggest problem was what to do about it. Telling Hermione would make her rush off and get herself killed. And him with her. They needed a plan. A nice safe foolproof plan. And just as soon as he'd thought of one he'd tell Hermione where the crazy bitch could be found. But until then, he'd keep it to himself. He didn't like it. Keeping it from her. It skirted just a little too close to lying than he was comfortable with, but if it kept her alive then he'd live with it.

Closing his eyes he tilted back his head and sighed. His little witch was going to explode when she found out. A fond smile crossed his face. The sadistic part of him liked it when she was angry. It was a turn on to see her cheeks flush and hair crackle and spark. But it was her eyes that he liked the best. The way they'd flash indignantly and glow like fire whisky. Burning into him with deadly intent. It was enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

Huffing out a breath at his own foolishness, Scabior jumped off the steps and made his way to the bottom of the field. Dew clung to his boots and pants as he strolled through the grass. The night was alive with sound. The scuttle of tiny feet darting about the undergrowth. The dry powder sound of an owl's wings flying in the still air. A high pitched screech as a fox caught a rabbit and ended its life.

His wandering thoughts circled back to Bella. The easiest solution would be to kill her. That was definitely his preference. But he knew Hermione would never agree. Not whilst she still thought there were rules to the game they were playing. Narrowing his eyes he looked north. No longer needing the crystal to tell him which direction to look. He considered once again Apparating to the farmhouse. If only so he could poke at the wards. Try to find a weakness. A tiny crack that he could sneak through.

But what then? Attack her with a tickling charm? Spit insults until she dropped dead? None of that even took into account the stinking rat that was sure to be skulking about in the shadows. Frustration clenched his hands into tight fists. If only he could convince her to do it his way. The Slytherin way. Several long minutes passed. Scabior sneering into the night. Unease biting at his heels. He had a bad feeling. The longer this hunt continued the more his skin felt like it was trying to crawl free of his body. The urge to go back to the hut, throw Hermione over his shoulder and disappear was strong enough that he worried that he might not be able to control it.

He must have stayed that way for several hours. Teeth grinding, eyes staring north. Unseeing. The sky faded to a dull purple. The air holding the freshness of a new day. In a little over six hours, they would be meeting Pippit. The Snatcher sighed, twisting away and making his way back to the cabin. He didn't enter. Merely sat on the steps, back propped against the door and waited.

Pippit was a fucking idiot. Scabior didn't like him. He had a way of looking at Hermione that set his teeth on edge. Like he wanted to crack open her skull to see inside her brain. Or strip her naked and study every curve and dip. Of course, the shit was careful only to let those looks show on his face when he thought they weren't looking. Waiting until they were both turned to settle his greedy eyes on her face. But Scabior had seen them. And what he'd seen he didn't trust. Or like.

His lips puckered in distaste as Hermione bent closer to the idiot. Listening intently as the Auror told them how Kingsley was. The Snatcher wasn't the least bit interested. He only half heard as he scanned the deserted clearing. Eyes taking in the distant muggle houses. Looking as always for the best escape route.

"But you're sure he's okay?" Hermione's soft voice asked. Pulling him back to the loose circle the three of them made.

His eyes tracked Pippit's fingertips as he reached forward to brush the back of her hand. "He's fine. I've been seeing him every day."

Hermione's eyes closed in relief at his words. And Scabior watched as Pippit's gaze traced the line of her jaw before settling on her lips when she wasn't looking.

"Yer enjoyin' the view?" He sneered.

The Auror's eyes blinked as he twisted to regard him with a cool look. "I've no idea what you mean."

"What view?" Hermione asked looking at Pippit before switching her gaze to Scabior.

"Nothin' yer need worry about Dove." He said. "The boy was lookin' at somethin' he shouldn't 'ave been."

Scabior watched as Pippit's face cleared of all emotion. His smooth features becoming blank. Eyes darkening as his stare switched from him back to Hermione. "How is your hunt going? Are you any closer to finding Lestrange and Pettigrew?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Clearly confused about what had just happened. "Well, we-"

"Now Pet. Don't be lettin' all of our secrets slip." Scabior interrupted, not shifting his gaze from Pippit.

A slight tightening beneath his eyes was the only indication of the rage stirring inside the young Auror. Such a small sign. Only seen because Scabior was watching him so intently. And what he was seeing was making his skin crawl. There was something off about the Auror. Something that made his Snatcher sense perk up and take notice.

When a barely there smile touched Pippit's lips, Scabior felt ice pool in the pit of his stomach. "This isn't what I had planned. But I'm nothing if not adaptable."

"What?" Hermione asked frowning. "I don't understand."

Scabior felt the air shift. Tension swirling around them. He flicked his wrist, wand sliding into his palm. And then Pippit murmured a word and Hermione hit the floor. One second. That's all it took. One second for his witch to crumple to the ground unconscious. He took a step towards her, wand raised and pointed at Pippit. His heart was pulsing in his throat, panic tumbling down his spine.

"Are you to play the hero and save the girl?" Pippit said withdrawing his own wand in one smooth careless gesture, "She'll be the first to die if a single spell leaves your lips."

Scabior froze. Instinct telling him the Auror was serious. That one misstep would cost Hermione her life. The air around him buzzed against his skin making it prickle unpleasantly. Every cell in his body screamed at him to do something. Anything. But he didn't know what he could do. Not when Pippit had cast that wandless magic so easily. There was no way he'd be able to reach Hermione before the Auror made good on his word and killed her.

"What do yer want?" He snarled, holding onto his temper by a rapidly fraying thread.

Pippit gave a small meaningless smile, "Everything. But for now, I'll have to make do with the two if you."

The Snatcher felt his heart move from his chest to his throat. He swallowed, calculating the distance between them. Wondering if he could tackle Pippit to the ground. Use his hand to slam his jaw closed and prevent him casting. If he'd been alone he might have taken the risk. But not now. Not with Hermione pale and vulnerable at their feet.

As if reading his mind, Pippit slowly bent down, fingertips ghosting over the witches cheek. "Will you carry her?" His eyes flicked up to Scabior's, "or shall I?"

"Yer don't fuckin' touch her." Scabior hissed reaching down to gather her in his arms. For the briefest of seconds, he thought he might be able to Apparate them away. Quickly before the Auror had time to think. But as soon as the thought entered his head, Pippit grasped the collar of his jacket, fingers twisting in the leather.

Scabior bared his teeth as their chance of escape was snatched away. He shook his anger aside, switching his attention back to Hermione, scooping a hand beneath her knees and shoulders. He slowly pushed back to his feet, the wild-haired witch a dead weight in his arms.

A cramping sensation, just below his ribcage, was the only warning he got as Pippit Disapparated them away. They landed in a damp cellar. Dark and stinking of mould. Beside him, the Auror muttered a word and candles flared to life. Lighting the area around him. His eyes immediately searched the room. Taking in the sturdy table, two hard-backed chairs and one wall peppered with rusty chains. The floor beneath the chains had dried pools of blood and gore.

His skin itched. The danger they were in breathing down his neck. The Snatcher instinct told him to fight, to run. He sensed death and pain. But a glance at Hermione had him freezing in place. Pippit had the tip of his wand pressed against the top of her head.

"Lean her against the wall," A pale finger pointed at a section of wall which held a length of chain that coiled onto the rough stone floor. "There."

Scabior grit his teeth. Unable to make his feet move.

A sigh came from Pippit. "Either you do it or I will." He gave Scabior an expressionless look, "But I can guarantee that you won't like my method. And neither will she."

The promise of pain saturated his voice. It was enough to force Scabior's feet into action. Gently placing Hermione on the ground. Propping her against the wall. As softly as if she was made of spun glass.

"Now sit beside her," Pippit ordered.

Scabior quickly complied. He didn't like it. Knew that the chains would be circling their wrists any second. But he didn't know what else to do. How else to keep Hermione safe. He kept his eyes fixed on her pale face as Pippit spat out a spell. The dull clink of metal slithering sounded and suddenly his wrists were encased. The rusty metal biting into his skin. Too tight to be anything near comfortable. A glance showed Hermione's slim wrists similarly encased.

"Pass me your wand," Pippit said crouching down to search for Hermione's.

Scabior snarled his displeasure, earning him a condescending look from Pippit. Who then slowed down his search. Letting his fingers linger on her arm as he pulled her wand free. Then he grabbed at Scabior's tucking them both away in his pocket.

"I trust you can entertain yourselves?"

Scabior ignored him instead shuffling to the side so that his thigh and shoulder touched Hermione's. She was still unconscious but breathing with a slow steady rhythm. A slight twitch showing that she would be waking soon. He'd need to be calm. Ready with answers for the thousand questions she was bound to ask. It was just unfortunate that he didn't have those answers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pippit leave the cellar. He refused to think about what would happen when he returned. But the Snatcher in him had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

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	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

A cold draft shivered along Hermione's skin. Hard cold stone pressed into her spine and legs. She was trembling, but she didn't know why.

"Yer back with me Love?"

Hermione swung her head to the side, the dull clunk of chains catching her attention before she could make the turn. "Where are we?" She whispered, staring at the rusty manacles circling her wrists. Eyes squinting into the dim light.

Scabior reached across to cover her hand with his palm, "dunno Pet." He tapped his fingers playfully against her skin, "Yer remember anythin'?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she tried to recall what had happened. "I...Pippit! He betrayed us!" She whispered.

"Yeah." Scabior said, lifting his hand to her chin and using it to turn her head his way, "When he comes back, yer let me do the talkin'."

Hermione smiled ruefully, "If I do that we might never get out."

"Oh we're getting' out Love, even if I 'ave ter dig us a tunnel with my teeth."

"That's rather dramatic don't you think?" She said shuffling closer and laying her head against his shoulder. Seeking warmth and comfort. Taking in the windowless room they were imprisoned within with growing alarm. The damp air and mouldy walls screamed cellar. But who's? And where?

Scabior rubbed his hand along her thigh, "See if yer still think that when the pain starts Love."

Instant ice surrounded her heart. "Are we in that much trouble?"

A heavy sigh brushed the loose strands of hair feathering her forehead, "Yeah. I think we might just be."

"Did Pippit say anything?"

Scabior shook his head, "Only that he'd had to change his plans. Nothin' else worth repeatin' An' he's got our wands."

"So what? We wait?" She said, forcing her voice not to show him how terrified she was.

"For now." He murmured. Eyes searching the room for some kind of weapon.

Hermione remained silent. Frantically thinking about what might happen. Pippit had obviously betrayed them. But why? And what did he want? She shook those questions aside, instead thinking about how they could escape. _If_ they could escape. There was always George. He'd known they were meeting with Pippit. But it could take days before he realized they were missing. Fear was a solid ball lodged in her throat. They had no way to defend themselves. She'd experienced that once before. At Malfoy manor. And the thought of going through it again made her feel sick. Not just for her own safety, but Scabior's as well.

Her eyes widened as she lifted her head and twisted to face him. "I release you." She whispered.

"What's that Love?" He asked, sharp features drawn in confusion.

Hermione blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. "From the vow. I release you."

Scabior's eyes widened. "Ermione-"

"It gives you a shot. No much of one I know. But they won't be expecting it, and if you can get a wand, then you'll be able to cast Imperio at the very least. You still won't be able to hurt anyone, because the curse Kingsley used on you will prevent it, but you can order them to let us go." She said in one rushed breath.

Fingers came to rest against the side of her jaw. Dark inky eyes stared into hers, "Thank you." Softly spoken but drenched in gratitude.

Hermione nodded. No more words needed between them.

They stayed like that for a while. Looking at each other in a way they hadn't before. A deeper, more intense way. It lasted until the door to the cellar swung open. Scabior immediately pushed Hermione back against the wall and leaned passed her, half covering her with his body. She clutched onto him, fingers tangling in his leather coat.

Pippit made his slow way down the stairs. Feet making a hollow thud on the wooden steps. But it wasn't Pippit that Hermione was staring at. It was Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew. Both of whom followed closely behind the Auror.

She felt Scabior stiffen in front of her, trying to manoeuvre himself more completely in front of her. But it was useless. Bella had already seen her. Terror tightened her chest as the insane witch let out a mad cackle.

"Can I play with her now? Let me play with her now." Bella said, tugging on the sleeve of Pippit's coat.

The Auror gave her a cool look, "Not yet. I want to talk with her first."

Hermione swallowed her fear, pushing away from Scabior, determined they wouldn't see her cowering like a child in the dark. "What do you want?" She asked, pleased her voice came out relatively level.

Pippit smiled politely, "To talk with you, as I said."

"Yer ain't sayin' shit to her." Scabior spat a full Death Eater sneer in place.

Bella leapt passed Pippit, her wand raised and eyes narrowed. "How dare you speak to him like that!" She muttered a word, too low to hear, and a flash of orange light flew from the tip of her wand.

It hit Scabior's cheek. Cutting him instantly to the bone. A spray of blood erupted from the wound hitting Hermione in the face. "Stop!" She screamed.

Bella laughed. A throaty chuckle that fell from her throat to saturate the air. She twirled around, hair and skirt flaring, "Can I play with him until you're done talking to her?"

Pippit eyed them coolly for one long moment. "Don't kill him. But be sure to do what we talked about."

Hermione tried to pull free of the chains. Ripping and tearing her skin in the process. Panic overcoming her. "Please don't hurt him." She yelled, speaking to Pippit, "I'll do anything, just don't let her hurt him."

A dark brow crept up the Auror's forehead as he switched his gaze from her to Scabior, "you can take a little pain can you not?" He asked.

The Snatcher snorted, "Yer leave Ermione alone and I'll take whatever yer give."

The malicious smirk that curved Pippit's lips filled Hermione with dread, "Release her."

It was Peter who moved forward to undo Hermione's chains. Skulking forward, head bowed, eyes darting around as if expecting an attack. Bella hissed in his ear as he passed her causing the rat to stumble forward and into them. He grunted as Scabior kneed him in the side, but managed to scramble up before another blow landed. He whispered the charm to undo her manacles and pulled Hermione roughly to her feet.

"Get yer fuckin' hands off her," Scabior shouted kicking out his feet.

But it was too late. Pettigrew had jammed his wand into Hermione's throat. Just above the pulse point. A smug self-satisfied look settled upon his rat-like features. Fading the moment he turned away from the Snatcher and back towards Pippit. Hermione shuddered but managed to meet the Auror's gaze without flinching. Not even when his slim fingers curled around her arm. Biting deep and nipping her skin.

"Shall we?" He said, tilting his head towards the cellar door.

Hermione wanted to say no. But Pippit was already tugging her up the stairs. She looked back to see Bella and Peter closing in on the stone-faced Snatcher. His dark inky gaze flicked towards her and he nodded sharply, once. That was the last thing she saw before the door swung shut. They emerged into a kitchen. Small, but neat and tidy. A tiny table was squashed in the corner along with two chairs. It was towards one of those that Pippit pushed her.

"What do you want?" She asked, narrowing her eyes on the young Auror who had always seemed so harmless. So kind.

"I want what my father couldn't achieve." He said, a small smile gracing his lips.

Hermione took a quick glance around the room, looking for something she could use as a weapon. "And what's that?" She said, flinching when she heard Bella let out a throaty cackle.

"Control over the wizarding world." Pippit idly spun his wand between his fingers as he spoke. A casual gesture that didn't fool Hermione for a moment. His posture was relaxed, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those remained cool and fixed on her.

And then what he'd said registered in her head, "Who exactly is your father?"

The skin of Pippit's face tightened, "Vodemort."

"No." Hermione jumped to her feet, "But that's impossible!"

"I assure you, Hermione, that it is not," Pippit said, looking at the door when the hiss, fizz of hexes sounded. And then back to Hermione with that same expressionless mask. "Mother sounds like she having fun."

She actually felt the blood drain from her face. "Bella? I...I don't believe it." She whispered. Legs turning to jelly as the implication of his words sank into her brain. He was the new Dark Lord that the Death Eaters spoke of.

"And yet you should."

Bella's muffled voice seeped through the door. Followed by Scabior's rough curse. Hermione swallowed, fear skidding down her spine. She took a step towards the door, anger replacing her fear. Hard fingers circled her wrist halting her steps.

"If you want him to live passed tonight you'll sit back down." Pippit's voice was surprisingly pleasant as he issued his threat.

Hermione sat. Carefully folding her hands onto the table's chipped surface. Forcing her face into a calm mask. Even if inside she was shaking with terror and so worried for Scabior she felt sick. "What do you want from me?"

"Secrets Hermione. I intend to be made Minister of Magic within the next five years, and you're going to help me." His eyes took on a glazed, unfocused look, "You'll tell me of Potter and each of the Weasley's, of who in the Order I'll need to make disappear so that I can succeed. You'll give me it and more."

"I won't give you a damn thing." She spat.

Pippit's face twisted unpleasantly, "Then I'll kill you all. Mother can start with Scabior and I'll even allow you to watch."

Hermione pulled her lips between her teeth. Blinking when she tasted the salty tang of Scabior's blood on her tongue.

"What? Lost for words?" Pippit said, a hint of amusement edging his voice.

The skin between her forehead puckered, "No, I just don't know what you want me to say." She finally settled on.

"Then you better learn." A cold smile curved his lips, "I'll give you two hours to think up some appropriate conversation that we can engage in."

Hermione snorted out a breath. "I don't need two hours to know all you're interested in is hearing about how clever you are."

A bubble of laughter crawled free of his mouth, "You see? This is why I like you, Hermione. Less that five minutes and you already have me figured out." He reached forward to brush his fingertips along his knuckles, "We're alike. We think the same. That was why it was so easy to predict your actions. I simply asked myself what I would do were I you."

Hermione shook her head in immediate denial. "I'm nothing like you and I never will be!"

"Then how did I know?" He asked, eyebrow creeping up his forehead.

"Know what?"

Pippit smirked, "Know that you would use Scabior when you found out my mother and Peter survived? Know that you would take and use the book I planted at the Ministry?" He sat back more comfortably in the chair, "Just like I know that you'll do whatever it takes to keep your friends alive, even if that means doing whatever I say."

Hermione remained silent. A feeling of dread creeping up on her. He'd planned it all. Possibly from the very beginning. And he was right. She would do anything to keep her friends and Scabior safe. Giving herself over to Pippit included. But only if there was no other choice.

A grunt and muffled yelp came from the cellar. Hermione felt her heart move from her chest and into her throat. The skin on her back was wet with sweat. "Take me back down there."

"Are you so eager for my mother to play with you?" He asked.

"I'm not afraid of Bella."

Pippit smiled, "You're lying." He pushed to his feet, "I know you are," A finger drew a line down her cheek, "because I know you."

Hermione stiffened. He was right. She was lying. But there would be a snowball fight in hell before she'd admit to him how terrified she was of Bella. When she looked back at Pippit he'd moved without her being aware, and was standing by the cellar's door. Waiting.

Ignoring her trembling body she stood and made her slow way towards him. Once she was next to him, Pippit opened the door and inclined his head. The coppery smell of blood floated up from the steps. She could hear panting breaths. and Bella's raspy voice singing softly. A hand on the small of her back pushed gently, guiding her down the stairs. Her feet hit each tread hard, the force vibrating up her legs and into her spine.

Scabior was still chained to the wall. Peter and Bella standing in front of him. He was covered in blood and bruises. And several of the fingers of his right hand were broken. The bones twisted back on themselves, digits swollen purple. Hermione made to run towards him, but Pippit looped his arm around her waist at the last second. Bella clapped her hands in delight and began to stalk towards her. Pale face eager.

"I promised mother a few hours of your time," His hot breath whispered into her ear. "She can be so difficult if she doesn't get what she wants. I won't let her kill you of course, but until you give me what I want, I'll make you suffer in more ways than you can imagine."

As he spoke Pippit led Hermione to the table, positioning her so that her thighs touched the surface, "Put your hands on top, palms down."

Her hands were shaking badly as she did as commanded. When he used a sticking charm, gluing her skin to the table top, she was almost sick. Fear so intense she thought she'd pass out. The first tear fell when Bella smacked the wood between her hands and giggled.

"Leave 'er alone." Scabior's voice sounded wet. Like he had a mouthful of blood blocking the words.

Pippit ignored him, giving Bella a pointed look, "Don't kill her. And no damage that cannot be fixed." He swung away, searching the room for Pettigrew.

The rat was skulking in the corner, slumped over in an effort to make himself appear smaller. "You. Make sure she follows my orders."

Pippit waited until Pettigrew gave a panicked nod before making his way towards Scabior. Crouching down just out of reach to examine his mangled fingers, "Allow me." He said, reaching across to tap his wand onto his hand.

Hermione heard him say Episkey several times, and then the sharp crack as Scabior's bones snapped back into place filled the air. Pippit murmured something else, too low for Hermione to hear and then jabbed the tip of his wand viciously into Scabior's palm. The Snatcher remained stoically silent throughout the entire ordeal, his swollen eyes fixed on Hermione.

Once he was satisfied Pippit pushed to his feet. "I'll be back in two hours."

And then he left.

Hermione blinked at the cellar door. Ice skidding down her spine as Bella ever so gently pressed against her back. Not even air separated them. Her eyes flicked desperately back to Scabior. He was on his feet, tugging and pulling at the chains, snarling as they refused to break.

"Have you missed me?" Bella said.

* * *

 **Don't shout. I didn't intend to break this chapter up, but I've honestly been struggling this week. No matter how long I've stared at the screen, it has remained stubbornly blank. I was actually lucky to get this out at all. :(**


	27. Chapter 27

**Super duper sorry for the delay. I've been struggling with writer's block and although I know where I want the story to go, the words have just refused to come :( And because it has been a little while, I've included the last few sentences of the previous chapter as a reminder of where we are :)**

 _Once he was satisfied Pippit pushed to his feet. "I'll be back in two hours."_

 _And then he left._

 _Hermione blinked at the cellar door. Ice skidding down her spine as Bella ever so gently pressed against her back. Not even air separated them. Her eyes flicked desperately back to Scabior. He was on his feet, tugging and pulling at the chains, snarling as they refused to break._

" _Have you missed me?" Bella said._

* * *

Chapter Twenty Six

Hermione clenched her lips into one tight line, determined that the insane witch wouldn't hear her utter one single word.

"Not speaking to me?" Bella gently placed her chin on Hermione's shoulder and wrapped her arms around her waist, "but I so wanted to talk to you."

Scabior yanked on the chains. "Get yer fuckin' hands off her."

"Is he your champion?" The insane witch whispered into her ear.

A whimper crawled free of her throat when Bella tightened her fingers into her hair, pulling sharply back and baring her throat. Fingernails scraped along her skin, pausing to tap against her thudding pulse. Then suddenly Bella was gone, replaced by a cool draft. She flicked her gaze towards Scabior. He was glaring at the space behind her shoulder with absolute hatred.

"Peter?" Bella snapped out. "Bring the pensieve."

Hermione blinked at the tabletop. Willing her hands to move, to lift, but they remained stubbornly glued to the waxy surface. She was still trying to tug them free when Pettigrew placed a large copper bowl between them. The shimmering water looked black and full of secrets in the dim light. A ball of fear lodged in the back of her throat as she continued to stare. Movement beside her made her tremble with the need to run away and hide. She had the most awful feeling that Bella was going to make her relive the torture she'd received at Malfoy manor.

A warm breath touched her cheek and then soft lips brushed her skin. Kissing away the tears that seeped out of her eyes.

"You taste lovely," Bella said. "Sadness, and fear, and broken dreams." She swayed forward until her body lay against Hermione's side. "Shall we break some more?"

"Leave her the fuck alone!" Scabior hissed.

"No. I don't think I will." Bella chuckled as she slowly left Hermione's side and circled the table until she stood in front of her.

Hermione sealed her lips into a tight line and forced her eyes to meet Bella's. Her long black hair seemed to soak up the darkness, giving her face a moon-like glow. Dark eyes looked at Hermione with amusement and an eagerness that set her teeth on edge.

"I'm not afraid of you." She looked directly in Bella's eyes as she spoke, making sure her voice was as strong as she could make it.

The insane witch merely smiled. A small meaningless stretching of lips that meant nothing and everything all at once. A bone white hand lifted to her neck, slim fingers playing with a tiny glass vial. Suddenly her fingers clenched around the chain and she yanked. The silver links broke, leaving a red line around Bella's neck. She held the vial up in front of Hermione's face between thumb and forefinger.

"Would you like to know a secret?" Bella mock whispered. She pinched the tiny cork out of the vial and tipped the contents into the pensieve. The pale silvery liquid swirled into the water before sinking to the bottom.

Hermione watched it settle with a sense of building dread. Whatever the memory was would be something she didn't want to see. Something that would cut into her soul and shred it into tiny pieces. Her eyes sought out Scabior, he was staring at Bella with pure rage twisting his features. She barely recognised him. Suddenly Bella reached across and took two fistfuls of Hermione's hair.

"Look at me when I talk to you, Mudblood!" she spat.

Hermione winced when the fingers in her hair twisted, tugging on her scalp and tearing free several strands. Bella snarled before forcing Hermione's head down and into the pensieve. Cold water encased her face, rushing up her nose and blurring her eyes. She blinked and her vision cleared.

 _She was standing in the corner of a strange room. Threadbare and furnished only with a bed and ratty old chair. It was this that Ron was sitting in and facing a dirt smeared window. A figure darted passed her and into the room._

" _Ron!"_

 _Hermione watched as he turned from the window. "Mione!"_

 _Her heart rose from her chest and into her throat as who she could only assume was Bella, polyjuiced to look like her, rushed forward to stand in front of Ron._

" _Are you okay? Why did you want to meet? Did that toad Snatcher do something?" Ron asked._

" _I missed you silly!" Bella replied with a coy smile that Hermione would never have used._

 _She shook her head as they continued to chat. Hermione feeling an odd sense of disappointment in Ron. How could he think that it was her? She'd never once behaved in such a way._

" _I miss Harry," Bella said. Hermione felt a rush of anger when the witch thrust out her breasts. The anger switched to embarrassment when Ron's eyes dropped to stare at her chest._

" _I miss my room as well." She added._

 _Ron snorted, "you miss Grimmauld Place?"_

 _Bella leapt up, "yes!"_

 _Hermione felt sick, her stomach twisting into a tight knot. It was Ron who'd given Bella the Orders Location. Ron who'd inadvertently caused Ginny's death. She pushed desperately against the pensieve's pull. Not wanting to see or hear another moment. Knowing with absolute certainty that the worst was still to come. Her eyes widened when Ron crossed the room to sit on the bed beside Bella. When they started to kiss, she had to press a hand to her mouth to stop the rising scream from tumbling out. A continuous stream of tears trickled down her cheeks. The look of awe that suffused Ron's face as Bella bared his cock and slid on top was horrifying._

 _Unable to watch anymore, Hermione turned away. It didn't prevent her from hearing the gasps and moans that fell from Ron's mouth. Nor the precise moment the polyjuice wore off and Ron's groan turned into a yelp. Her eyes darted back towards him, just in time to see his shudder of release as he came inside Bella. Anger rushed through her so fast she felt dizzy. Her eyes narrowed as Bella crucio'd Ron before performing obliviate. The last thing she saw before she was pulled from the pensieve was Ron's dazed face._

Bella was watching Hermione with avidness spread all over her face. Her dark eyes were sparkling with merriment and something else. A wickedness that flattened her features and made her resemble a puppet. The hands holding her hair clenched in anticipation, sharp fingernails digging into her scalp. Hermione fought to keep her expression blank but Bella's delighted cackle told her that she'd failed.

"What's the matter Mudblood?" The demented witch leant forward until her lips brushed Hermione's. "Did you see something you didn't like?"

"You bitch."

"What did you call me?" Bella hissed, "say it again. I dare you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as a wave of anger rushed through her. "You're a bitch! A crazy, sadistic, pathetic bitch!"

The only warning Hermione had that she'd pushed Bella over the edge was a screech that nearly deafened her. Then suddenly the witch was slapping and scratching at her face like a demented cat. With her hands stuck to the table, all she could do was turn her head as the incensed witch clawed at her face, leaving behind streaks of heat on her cheeks and jaw. Dimly she was aware of Scabior cursing and yelling, tugging uselessly at his chains but unable to help. Tears leaked out of her eyes as Bella grasped a handful of her hair and pulled. Baring the line of her throat to the ice cold air.

"Do you know what the worst thing about being you was, Mudblood?" Bella calmly said. At complete odds with the manic gleam that darkened her eyes.

Hermione clenched her teeth but refused to answer. Merely staring at the shadowed corner of the room but she couldn't prevent the shudders that ran up and down her spine. Not even when she stiffened all of her muscles and forced her feet into the ground. She stopped breathing when Bella pulled the cursed blade from the sheath at her waist. Gently placing the point against the swell of Hermione's cheek.

"It was your fucking hair." She slowly raised the blade, laying the edge against her scalp.

"Ermione!" Scabior yelled, breaking her out of the fear that had frozen her in place.

She blinked, focusing back on Bella. She was leaning across the table, her face so close that Hermione could see the individual eyelashes that framed her eyes. The knife moved but before it could cut, Hermione dropped to her knees. The hand in her hair pulled tight but she ignored it, instead forcing her chest into the table. It was heavy and didn't move nearly far enough but despite that it did knock Bella off balance. The insane witch fell to the floor, her limbs flailing as she rolled into Scabior.

The snatcher immediately wrapped his legs around her waist and jammed his hands around her throat to prevent her from casting.

"Put it down rat, or I'll fuckin' kill her." Scabior spat, tightening his grip on the struggling Bella.

Hermione's eyes darted to the shadowed corner where Pettigrew was holding his wand in a shaking hand. His pudgy face was coated with sweat and his beady eyes were wide with panic.

"You can't hurt her," he said. "The binding placed on you prevents it." The last words were uttered with growing confidence.

Scabior let out a low chuckle. A deep guttural sound that emerged from the depths of his chest. Hermione shivered, not recognising this cold, deadly version of him.

"The bindin' prevents me usin' magic ter 'urt someone." His hands twitched around Bella's pale throat. "Not me hands."

Hermione blinked as his softly spoken words reached Pettigrew's ears. The rat turned a dull grey colour as his eyes darted to Bella's reddening face. Her nails were scratching at Scabior's hands, leaving deep runnels that immediately beaded with blood. Her wand was nowhere to be seen, perhaps lost in the folds of her skirt. There was no way Scabior would be able to search for it without letting Bella go.

"End the spell," Hermione said.

Pettigrew cast a confused look her way.

"Release my hands, now!" She yelled, kicking the leg of the table.

"Do as she says or Bella breathes her las," Scabior said.

The rat took a reluctant step forward, every part of his body trembling as he slowly turned his wand on Hermione.

"Careful now," Scabior said. "Misfire an I'll strip the skin from yer body one piece at a time."

Hermione held her breath as Pettigrew drew in a deep breath.

"Finite." He muttered.

She felt the tips of her fingers begin to tingle. Then a prickling sensation spread to her palms and wrists. She pulled and with a faint pop her hands leapt up from table's waxy surface. As soon as she was free, Hermione circled the table and dropped to her knees beside Scabior and Bella. The incensed witch began to thrash around, kicking and bucking as Hermione looked for the wand. She found it just beneath Bella's hip. Pulling it free, she grimaced at the spiky oily feel of it against her skin.

The first thing she did was release Scabior from his chains. The second was to point the wand at Pettigrew.

"Don't move." She said. Behind her Scabior climbed to his feet, dragging the struggling Bella with him.

Pettigrew did the exact opposite of not moving, instead diving to the ground and firing off a quick succession of spells that Hermione barely had time to shield against. She heard Scabior swear and flicked a glance his way.

Bella had managed to push the Snatcher into a knockback charm. He was leaning against the wall, a dazed look clouding his eyes, as she watched a trickle of blood escaped his lips. He wasn't holding the insane witch any longer, she was standing beside him, her cheek twitching in fury. The moment their eyes met, Hermione threw a stinging hex followed quickly by the same knockback charm that had injured Scabior.

Behind her, she heard a shuffling sound as Pettigrew moved closer. Seeing her options fizzle into dust, Hermione quickly lunged at Scabior, apparating them away with a dull pop. The last thing heard before they disappeared was Bella's infuriated scream.

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T **his chapter was only completed because of the wonderful** Hollowg1rl. **Who not only gave me some fantastic ideas for the scene, but also gave me the kick I needed to get it finished. She also happens to be one of the nicest people I have met online and is a great writer in her own right. Go check out her stuff.**

 **As always please leave me your thoughts :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**Another chapter? Already? Yes. Yes it is. I'll be updating all my stories within the next week and a half :)**

 **This is a Bella chapter, so you know what that means. Violence and gore (ish)**

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Chapter Twenty Eight

Bella stared at the spot where the Mudblood and filthy Snatcher had disappeared. The wall had a smear of tar-thick blood that shone in the dim light and as she watched, a dribble of the liquid trickled down the uneven brickwork to land on the dirty floor. Every breath brought with it the taste of spent spells and rage. Mostly her own. Silence lay like a solid presence against her skin, rubbing until her fingers twitched with the urge to scratch and tear at her own flesh. She couldn't quite comprehend how they'd managed to steal her wand and escape. But what she did know was that Pippit would be furious with them.

The rustle of fabric sounded behind her, followed by the dry rasp of a sliding foot. Pettigrew. She spun around fixing the rat with a fierce look.

"Give me your wand," she hissed.

The disgusting rat hunched forward, hands fumbling in the dirty folds of his robes.

"My Lady," he implored, "it was not my fault."

Bella narrowed her eyes as the edges of her vision began to blur. "Not your fault?" She yelled. "Who released the Mudblood?"

"Please," his hands patted at the air in a placating manner, "the Snatcher would have killed you."

"He would have done no such thing!" she screamed, approaching the rat with a slow deadly stride. "You should have cast on him!"

"My lady-"

"Give me your fucking wand," Bella hissed, grabbing the lapel of his repulsive cloak.

Pettigrew was shaking, a fine tremble that made his hair and clothes dance. His greasy skin was coated with sweat and as she pulled him nearer, his eyes widened with panic.

"I won't ask you again," she whispered softly against his cracked and grey tinged lips. "If you don't give it to me, I'll start casting non-verbal spells." She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "And you don't want me to start casting those, Peter."

Pettigrew whined fearfully, clumsily searching for the wand he'd tried to hide. Bella could feel his knuckles scraping her ribs as he frantically pulled it free. He didn't want to give it to her. Without it he wouldn't be able to apparate away from the nightmare she was about to make him live. The silly noodle should have done it before now, she would have. A delighted smile pulled up the corners of her lips as the knobbly wood slid into her palm.

"Thank you." She tapped her finger along the tip, feeling the delicious sting of potential magic snap at her skin. "Now go to the corner."

The rat flinched, hearing the violence that sharpened her tone. He hesitated, eyes flicking to the stairway and his only chance of escape. Bella saw the look and pressed herself against him. Squashing her chest to his and jamming the heel of her boot onto his toes. She had to tip her head back to see his face clearly, tossing her hair behind her and giving the illusion of a smoky cape.

"Someone has to be punished for this, Peter." She pressed her hand to his cheek, "and you were the one who let the Mudblood go, so it has to be you."

Pettigrew shook his head, "but I had no choice, and you-" He broke off, seeing the mad gleam coat her eyes.

"I, what?" She eased away from him, cocking her head and tapping the tip of his wand on the palm of her hand.

Peter held his hands up in supplication, his beady eyes flicking once again to the stairway.

"Stop looking away from me!" Bella screamed, stamping her foot and thrusting out the wand.

"Please." Pettigrew whimpered trying to fold himself into a smaller target.

The insane witch narrowed her eyes, spotting the signs of him preparing to change into his animagus form. "Don't you dare."

Peter held his breath, squeezing every muscle tight as he forced the change.

"Crucio!" Bella hissed, a second before the change could take hold.

Pettigrew fell to the floor, spine snapping straight as wave after wave of intense pain suffused his body. His heels drummed the floor in a macabre rhythm as the unforgivable threatened to tip him into darkness. The taste of salty blood filled his mouth as he almost bit his tongue in two. Dimly he could hear Bella screeching at him, a high pitched wail that she only made when she'd truly lost herself to madness.

Hearing Peter moan and gasp on the floor was music to Bella's ears. She probably shouldn't have kept the Crucio on him for so long, but he danced so beautifully that she couldn't resist. She even smiled and began to sway, moving the wand gently back and forth like a muggle conductor directing an orchestra. Only stopping when she noticed a drop of blood trickle from his nostril.

Huffing out a disappointed breath, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Waiting for him to recover enough to speak. It took him ages to stop shaking, even longer to open his eyes. But when he did, Bella bent over, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Well?" She prodded the soft side of his waist with the sharp point of her boot. "What do you have to say to me?"

Peter gurgled, a clot of blood spilling from his mouth and onto his chest.

Bella wrinkled her nose, "you're not going to die are you? I hardly even cursed you at all!"

Pettigrew answered with a cough. A wet mucusy cough that let loose a fine spray of blood that landed on Bella's skirt.

"Filthy Rat!" She grabbed the material and shoved it in his face. "Look what you've done!"

Stepping back she pointed the wand. "Levioso."

Peter began to float up from the floor, his body still quivering from the effects of the Crucio. Bella waited until he was level with her hip, before swinging the wand sharply towards the nearest wall. Peter was flung against it, his head hitting the stone with a satisfying crack. Bella repeated the motion, quite lost in the sight of him crashing into the wall. His body crumpled in the most delicious way, so she did it again, studying the way his limbs fluttered loosely around his torso. He looked like a doll. A big, ugly, smelly doll. There was blood trickling from his nose, mouth, and ears but still she didn't stop. Casually tossing him against the wall, staining the rough stone red with his blood.

"This wand is awfully lazy, Peter," she muttered. "I have to practically order it to work!"

When she received no reply, Bella looked up and halted the swinging wand, dropping the Levioso. "Pettigrew?"

No answer from the crumpled rat. She kicked his shin with enough force that he should have flinched. Peter didn't move. Frowning she bent down, using the wand to prod at his neck. Dead. He was dead.

"Oops."

Shrugging, Bella pushed to her feet and turned her back on the disgusting beast. In all likely hood he'd be better off dead anyway. And this way, Bella could lay all the blame at Pettigrew's feet when Pippit returned. It wouldn't save her from being punished, but perhaps he wouldn't hurt her quite so badly. Nodding her head, she began to circle the room, humming beneath her breath as she waited. For a while, she stood over the spilled pensieve, reliving the look on the Mudblood's face when she'd seen the memories of the blood traitor.

It was utterly enchanting. The way her eyes had widened and filled with tears, everything about her breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. If only she'd had longer to gloat, soak up her misery and bathe in the terror that made her tremble like a storm tossed leaf. And the Mudblood had been trembling. Bella had felt it through the tips of her fingers as she'd fisted the girls horrid hair. She closed her eyes and remembered how close she'd come to scalping her. Just a second away. Less than even. But in the end it hadn't been enough time to hack off one curly strand. Pouting, she shoved Peter's wand into the waistband of her skirt, grimacing when the blunt ends dug into her flesh.

The very next chance she got, she was taking back her own wand and using it to make them both scream until their throats bleed. Then she could throw a fire hex at the Mudblood and burn the hair from her head, as well as some skin. She might even reach her skull. Above, the sound of footsteps broke through the silence, pulling Bella back from her plans of revenge and reminding her that she had to tread very carefully.

When the door at the top of the stairs creaked open, the dark haired witch immediately bowed her head. In front of her was a small pool of blood and when she looked closely, she could see herself reflected on its still wet surface. She looked like a naughty schoolgirl. A small flutter of excited fear settled in her chest. Every part of her listening intently as Pippit made his slow way down the stairs. She risked a peek when he made reached the bottom, quickly dropping her gaze when he glanced at Pettigrew.

"Well?" He said.

Bella pointed her pale hand at the rat. "He let them escape!"

"And you stood by and let him?" Pippit stepped further into the room, frowning when he had to shuffle past the upturned table to do so.

"No!" she said, crossing her arms indignantly. "The Snatcher had me by the throat!"

"Ah." His dark eyes trailed down to her neck to study the dark smudges that marred her skin. "And how did you find yourself in such a position?"

"The filthy Mudblood pushed me into him." Bella's cheek twitched as she fought to keep her temper in check.

An almost smile crossed the young Auror's lips, "of course she did," he murmured. "Who killed Peter?"

Bella crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted out her chin. "I did."

"Might I ask why?"

"He let the Mudblood go. The horrid bitch stole my wand and they escaped. It was all his fault!" She spat.

"Those decisions aren't yours to make." He took a step towards her, coolly looking her up and down. "Peter still had his uses and now we shall have to rework our plans to exclude him."

"And the Mudblood?" She rocked forward on her feet eagerly, "Should I find her? Bring her back?"

Pippit pursed his lips, eyes losing focus as he thought. "No. She'll come to me in a few days when she discovers the curse I placed on Scabior can't be lifted."

"But when will it start to take affect?" Bella whined.

"It will begin to show in the next few hours." His empty gaze fell on the pouting witch, "the same amount of time it will take for you to... apologize for killing Peter."

A shiver of genuine fear tumbled down Bella's spine. Sometimes, most times, she forgot how scary her son could be. His rage was so controlled, so unlike both her and Lord Voldemort that it honestly frightened her.

"Are you ready?"

Bella reached down to clench her hands in the folds of her skirt. "Yes."

The first hex hit, cutting the line of her jaw with a sharp sting. Thus beginning several hours of pain that she fought to endure without screaming.

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